The Outsider
by Abler
Summary: Harry Potter has never trusted Albus Dumbledore, but when the Headmaster’s full manipulations are revealed, he is launched into an exciting adventure, opposed by two sides, with little allies and only his brains to help him along the way. Abandoned.
1. Minor Setback

**The Outsider  
****Chapter 1: **_Minor Setback_

It really wasn't one of his most thought out ideas.

People always called him rash; Harry begged to differ. Although, in this particular subject, he was quite worried that he might yet live up to his reputation. Therefore, it would be quite understandable that he was having second-thoughts, standing next to the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, directly beneath the tallest tower.

Dumbledore was hiding something. Harry knew that, logically, it was nothing out of the ordinary. So why was he attempting to sneak his way into the Headmaster's office?

Well, he had deduced that Dumbledore was up to something, something that wasn't all that good for Harry.

The basis for this suspicion, however, was not the fact that Dumbledore had that annoying I-know-something-that-you-don't twinkle. He had that on constantly and if he'd look at it as a sign of Dumbledore's treachery every single time, he would end up worse than Mad-Eye Moody. No, it was more along the lines of the 'lessons' that Dumbledore had been giving him throughout the entirety of his sixth year.

What was the point in _just _teaching him about Riddle's history? Sure, Harry could appreciate that you had to 'know thy enemy' and all that crap, but there was no point at all spending that much of his time with Dumbledore of all people and simply not learning anything more worthwhile. Dumbledore wasn't a highly powerful figure for nothing, Harry could acknowledge that. But why wouldn't Dumbledore share his extensive knowledge? The lessons themselves were useless, really. Harry already knew Voldemort was a fucking psycho. If he actually showed psychopathic signs when he was a child, well, that was hardly important.

And why was Dumbledore sticking to the fact that Riddle's little fetish with trophies was something important? It hardly was, at least to Harry.

But all these points were hardly significant when compared to the last one. Why couldn't Dumbledore give him all the memories in one go? It would be easier, it would take less time, and it certainly would leave a lot of room for something else. It seemed as if Dumbledore gave him each memory as a reward for being a good boy…being completely malleable to his meddling plans…

And Harry wanted to find out what the objective of all these lessons was. Another area of interest was Dumbledore's constant absence. Dumbledore had always favored keeping on eye on his castle. So why was he leaving it now?

All these questions were getting particularly irritating.

But they spurned on his curiosity so much that he forgot his qualms. He drew his wand from his pocket. "_Scrateaum!_" Repeating the spell four times, he cast it over his hands and feet.

He placed his limbs upon the stone wall and began to _climb. _The spell he had cast was making sure that he could use his hands and feet to climb up the wall Spider-Man-style. This particular stealth mode, coupled by the black cloak he was wearing, made sure he was not visible to the naked eye in this particularly dark, shrouded night. Steadily he moved, ignoring his nausea at the increasing height. His fear of heights had been conquered long ago; he certainly didn't want a weakness like that. A small part of his brain was screaming at him about all the possible things that may go wrong; one example was the idea that the spell would fizzle out and he'd plummet to his doom…but then, pure logic quite sternly informed that part of his brain that the spell was not time-dependant. He had to use Finite on it for it to stop working.

A simple illusion he had placed over his bed was enough to disguise the fact he was out in the middle of the night, giving him a perfect alibi for any that might suspect him. It should keep the spy Ronald Weasley from informing Dumbledore of anything incriminating, Harry reflected, as he reached the window of the Headmaster's office.

The window was closed. But through the glass, Harry observed the room. A sigh of relief left his mouth when he realized that Fawkes was away. His gamble had paid off; the phoenix went wherever his master went and Harry had chosen one of those days when the Headmaster was away from the castle.

He took off one hand from the wall, digging it into the pocket of his cloak and taking out his wand. He muttered out a spell and waved his wand over the window, trying to detect any wards.

He nodded at the obvious palpable results; well, Dumbledore was certainly not going to let someone in that easily. If he had in fact opened the window without caution, he would have found himself in deep pain, lying on the ground dead with limbs not intact.

Harry decided that it would be better to do it in the less blunt method. His scans showed him that the wards had no alarms linked to them, alarms that might alert Dumbledore to his little excursion, but he did not want to use force to break the wards, because he knew that kind of attack often resulted in alarming displays of magic, explosions of light, mainly.

Hanging from the Headmaster's Tower was hardly enjoyable. He needed concentration to pull this off and being this high above the ground was highly detrimental to his concentration. Dimly, he wondered at the fact that Spider-Man never actually seemed uncomfortable with his wall-climbing, but he chalked that up to Spider-Man being a completely fictional character in a comic. Pushing away such useless thoughts, he _attempted_ to concentrate and barely made it through. He was waving his wand over the window.

"_Cranera!" _he hissed quietly, jabbing his wand at the wards. The barest amount of pure magic was released from his wand, wrapping tentatively around the protections, finding every crook and crevice, every cleft and fissure, every breach and imperfection.

It was a sign of Dumbledore's craftiness that he could not find any weakness, no, not easily. Harry had no foolish doubts that if the wards were more complex and more powerful, he would not have even had a chance in breaking them. However, it appeared as though Dumbledore was not expecting someone to climb the walls of Hogwarts and so did not take particular care in making sure the wards were the best. It was perhaps a bit of a failsafe.

It was really getting frustrating. His magic was scanning the wards, _feeling _them, and giving him an image of multiple bright strings of magic, tied beautifully together in a wonderful piece of art. But Harry knew very well that every knot could be undone, no matter how crudely or expertly it was made.

…And finally, he found a place where he could tug, with his magic, on the string, where he could undo the knot that blocked his path. It was a tiring task, pulling, pulling on the magic, dragging it backwards, with sheer will and determined concentration, until it neatly untied, leaving him sagging against the walls, his wand held limply in his hand, and sweat seeping from his black, messy hair.

He gasped wildly in tiredness, the exercise quite exhausting. All that time spent in the Room of Requirement, summoning warded objects, trying to break the tricky wards that the amazing Room had come up with, was not able to fully prepare him against going up against Albus Dumbledore's feats of magic. He had expected this; that was the main reason why he did not want to come through the front door. During his little reconnaissance mission, he had discovered that the office door was inlaid with a variety of wards more complicated than even the one he had went through.

Lying still up on the tower, feeling the cold January air, he managed to regain his energy. Only then did he congratulate himself on his achievement, but only briefly. He did not want to get cocky, especially in this kind of territory. With a bit of a struggle, as he was outside and was only using a single hand, he slid the window open, and quietly, moved to crouch on the windowsill, the spell he had used still in place. He swept his wand in a single clean move, muttering under his breath, "_Locomortis_ _dercorpus!_" All noises his keen ears had picked up suddenly stopped; snoring and general sounds of snoozing portraits. He had made sure to learn the Portrait Freezing Curse. After all, he had no need of portraits alerting the castle to his presence in the headmaster's office.

This way, when he released his curse, they would not know they had been frozen or that someone had entered the office.

Muttering "finite" to undo his very first spell, he jumped from the windowsill hurriedly. He wanted to get out of here before Dumbledore could catch him; because he had no idea how long the Headmaster would be out of the school. It was this part of the plant that had his heart beating wildly, as one was prone to do in times of danger. Adrenaline was really flowing, at the moment…

Ignoring his anxiety, he walked to the office, sweeping his eyes over the office. It looked as it always did when he visited, nothing out of place except the frozen portraits on the wall, who looked as if they had been already in deep sleep when Harry had cast his curse. Making sure he was unobserved, he quickly shuffled to the desk. He ignored the half-filled paperwork upon the desk, looking instead at the drawers. He skipped the first (he knew from his observations that it was full of candy) and the second (paperwork related to the school), instead opening the third.

It was enlarged magically to fit the multiple files in it, files that had names of students upon them. Now this was interesting; student files. He had no interest in the several hundreds of other students, so he flipped through them, trying to reach the 'P's. Finally finding his name, he slid the file carefully from it's place, and opened it.

_Harry J. Potter_

_Age: 16_

_Year: Sixth_

_House: Gryffindor_

_Mother: Lily Potter_

_Father: James Potter_

_Academic Level: Mediocre (NOTE: Student shows obvious signs of holding back in academics.)_

_Other: Boy-Who-Lived. Famous around the world. Involved in the PS incident, the CoS.2 incident, the DoM incident, and the Triwizard Tournament (Champion)_

_Special: Potter is very important for the war. As the Boy-Who-Lived, he defeated the Dark Lord at the age of one in the First War. Played an important role in the resurrection of Voldemort._

_Horcrux(?) of Lord Voldemort. High Danger wizard._

_Gives the outer appearance of mediocre, but is prone to visiting the seventh floor, presumably spending time in the Room of Requirements. Wizard of unknown power._

…That…was lacking. Harry had expected something more, but he suspected this was something that was only for Dumbledore, because it contained classified information. What worried Harry was that Dumbledore knew he spent time in the Room of Requirements. He had covered his tracks, but it would appear as though Dumbledore knew everything that went on in his castle. His spies were the walls themselves…

What was this about a Horcrux? Of Voldemort's? This was not making any sense at all, so Harry, deciding to spare himself the headache, returned the file back to its place, as if he had never even touched it.

He closed that drawer and attempted to open the last one, but he could not open it. There was no obvious bolt or lock, so he traced his wand over it. Ah, yes, it appeared as though it was layered with multiple wards, much more complex than the one he had gone through.

There was no way of opening it, he knew that. Reluctantly, he left the drawer alone, knowing that whatever was in there was definitely important, to be so well-protected.

There was little else he could inspect in this office. But he knew exactly where Dumbledore kept all his secret information, the only thing that actually _knew _what went in Dumbledore's head. It housed the deepest, darkest memories of Dumbledore, secrets not meant to be unveiled.

His Pensieve.

And unveil its secrets he shall.

The closet that Harry knew the Pensieve lay behind was quickly opened, revealing the bowl-shaped device that one could place his very memory in. Surrounding the Pensieve were glasses filled with a silvery, floating tendril that indicated a memory. He grabbed each memory and began to poor it into the basin, repeating this movement until the Pensieve was brim-full of silvery liquid.

Taking a deep breath, he dove.

------------------------------------

It was nothing but a simple dive. A dive that made him discover who he was, what his purpose was. A purpose that he had never wanted. He never expected what the consequence of such a dive would bring up on him, but he knew very well that this existence would be less pitiful than the fate that Dumbledore had orchestrated for him, the fate that had been planned since he was naught but fifteen months old.

He could not imagine what would have happened if Dumbledore's plans had succeeded. He would have been killed by Voldemort, but he wondered, when the time came when he was supposed to walk to his death, would he do it willingly, or would they have to drag him to his doom, like a pig in a slaughter-house?

It was with therefore a good thing that he had discovered Dumbledore's plans this early. No, Harry valued his life. He was not about to throw it for some idiotic wizarding world who're too half-arsed to do anything about their situation with a certain psychotic Dark Lord. Personally, Harry would want to chase after the Dark Lord for revenge, for ruining his life. He did not care whether or not Dumbledore was the one that sent him to the Dursleys', because Dumbledore would not have sent him there if it was not for Voldemort killing his parents.

If it was not for Voldemort trying to kill him, he would have lived a normal life, with friends and parents. Real friends he would have made, not the supposed friends he had, ones who were mostly interested in his fame. Ron Weasley wanted his fame because he wanted to be something special. Hermione Granger thought that it would be positively _fascinating_ to experience the many adventures of Harry Potter first hand. His fame certainly put major difficulties in his social life.

All Dumbledore's little plans had been utterly laid out to him. Harry tried not to think about Snape loving his mother or something, because that was just disgusting.

Harry had always never trusted Albus Dumbledore. But the manipulations had not been so obvious to see. He knew that all the trials, or most of them, that he had suffered during his life was orchestrated by Dumbledore. But the fact that Dumbledore was just preparing him for his death? No he could not live with that. He _despised _Dumbledore. He rated second on his list of 'Most Hated', right after Voldemort.

And as he lay there, sitting on his arse, before the Pensieve, panting from the barrage of memories he had been hit with, he knew he could not remain in this castle. He had to leave, before _something _happened –

"Harry?"

Oh crap.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_** Generally speaking, this fic is an Independent!Harry. What I want to avoid in this story is a too super-powered Harry or a far too cunning and smart Harry. I seriously want Voldemort and Dumbledore to be big challenges for Harry, not leave you wondering why he doesn't just visit each one of them and kill them if he was so powerful.**

**This is pretty much an AU. A plot bunny bit me in the ass the other day and I couldn't really get it out of my mind. There will be a lot of action in this story, mainly because that's what I look for in a fic.**

**As you can see, it involves Harry learning about Dumbledore's complete manipulations when he's still alive and before DH. Harry has already been practicing magic on his own and he generally hides a lot of things under his façade of a mediocre wizard. There are also barely existing acquaintanceship/friendship between him and Ron/Hermione, ever since the day they first met, meaning that they were never as close as they were depicted in the books. I'm just clearing that up.**

_**THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTLY NO ROMANCE! **_**Firstly because I think romance is something completely detrimental to a story, secondly because I see it as completely pointless and I don't like fics that get sidetracked by some kind of pairing. And also because I have no idea how to write romance. 3 **


	2. The Expulsion of Harry Potter

**The Outsider  
****Chapter 2: **_The Expulsion of Harry Potter_

It was that damned voice. That deceptively benignant voice. It hid his true malevolent nature, a nature designed to twist everyone to his whims. And it had almost made him a victim. But no, he was clever; he had never trusted the old man. There was a time when the name Albus Dumbledore meant nothing more to him than the name of an obscure headmaster. But after first year, it was changed, changed into suspicion. A suspicion that failed to disappear, instead deepening and ripening as the years passed by.

He was there.

Albus Dumbledore.

Flowing white beard that could be tucked within his belt. Long hair, just as long as his beard. He was donning a black cloak today, forgoing his usually brightly colored outfit. It swirled menacingly around him as he watched Harry over his half-moon glasses, brows furrowed disapprovingly, his eyes not missing a single detail, no, not Harry's sweaty state, nor the opened closet behind him. Not the swirling silver liquid contained by the Pensieve, either.

He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose, moving to Harry, revealing the still-open window behind him, blowing in the biting January wind. "It appears as though…I was too late," he said, closing his eyes tiredly. "If it was not for the fact that I was preoccupied at the time, perhaps this would never have happened."

Well, even Harry knew the game was up. He rose slowly, moving luxuriously. Dumbledore did not approach any further, and the distance between them did not exceed six feet. "So, how did you know?" Harry said, quietly, as he needed not to raise his voice, nor proclaim his very hate to the man before him. His intense green eyes were enough for that, he knew. "I checked for alarms. There weren't any. I should've realized, though. You were always a crafty little bastard."

"It was one of my brilliant ideas, yes," he said calmly. "You see, the wards were _linked _with a few simple and pointless wards on one of these fine portraits. If one set of wards were to fall, so would the other. There is an alert on the wards of the portrait, in case they fall. Simple, but ingenious." Harry knew not why Dumbledore was speaking. If it was him, and he was attempting to lead a sixteen-year-old wizard to his death, he would have already oblivated himself.

"Keep stroking your own ego, Dumbledore," said Harry, dryly. "I've been noticing you're the most arrogant person I've ever known. I mean seriously, plotting to send someone to his death, ever since he was little?"

"I fail to see what is so arrogant about striving to save the wizarding world."

"I'll tell you what's arrogant about that," Harry challenged. "What makes you think you are the one to save the wizarding world? And I find it hard to believe you actually care about someone other than yourself."

"I care, about the wizarding world," Dumbledore replied. "And I will not stand to let this world I love sink into the rule of Lord Voldemort!"

"Bullshit," Harry said. "I bet you really get off on this, don't you? I bet it really excites you, everyone being on your little chessboard, huh? Well, just so you know, I never was your perfect soldier. I'm not stupid, like everyone seems to think."

"When was it then?" Dumbledore said quietly. "Your First Year? Your Fifth Year? Or perhaps it was your Third Year?"

"First Year, actually," Harry said promptly. "Never trusted you, not really. Oh and by the way, the next time you decide to put up a few spies, make sure they're better ones."

"Ah, I suppose that your friends were never really so," Dumbledore said. "But no matter. I realize now what made you so desperate to come and visit my office at this hour, desperate enough to climb the walls of Hogwarts and break through the wards I had put on the window."

So this is what it was all about. A simple Memory Charm would not lessen Harry's suspicions, no, for Harry would attempt to reach the office again. The knowledge of Dumbledore's true betrayal would be forgotten, but the seeds of doubt and suspicion would remain. And Dumbledore would need to remove those seeds, before they grew into trees too large to cut and Harry would remain uncontrollable and unpredictable to the old man. And he was suddenly faced by the unique wand of Albus Dumbledore, a spoken word on its owner's lips.

"_Oblivate!_"

The streak of luminous light blue magic careened towards Harry, but too late. He had already known what was to come and he neatly sidestepped the sizzling beam, drawing his wand from his pocket. But he was certainly not ready for the second spell.

"_Imperio!_"

The beam of murky dark magic struck him before he could move. A haze sunk over him…he felt nothing. Who cared about Dumbledore? Who cared about anything? This was such a pleasant feeling, he could stay forever like this, and there was nothing in the world better than _this._

_Lie down on the floor and drop your wand…_

Why not? Wouldn't it just be easy for him to drop to the ground and give himself fully to this sensation? Wouldn't it?

But a voice within his head…it spoke…

_NO! I don't take orders, never have!_

And the haze shattered like glass. Glass that appeared hard but in reality was nothing but a flimsy barrier. A flimsy barrier broken easily…if you knew the way.

He faced reality, now. He felt himself bending, trying to reach to the ground. But no.

Before Dumbledore could even comprehend it, Harry's back had snapped up again and his wand had been leveled directly at the traitorous man.

"_Orbiso Flammum!_"

A sphere of hissing flames erupted from his wand and blasted across the room at Dumbledore. An explosion rang out upon its nearing of the man, the sudden flames engulfing the man's figure. Harry tensed, leveling his wand at the licking flames, flames that turned the walls steadily to ash, charring them completely. And it was all the well, for a strong, living voice came from the charring fire, barking out a spell.

"_Stupefy!_"

Harry blinked at the simple spell, said verbally. But his answer came in the form of three shimmering beams of red light in the place of one. He cursed in alarm, diving to the side. He could feel the very strength behind the first beam as it sizzled close by him, missing him by inches. The last two beams were still incoming, but a bright yellow shield enshrouded him and they struck, one after the other. He felt his wand vibrate as the shield buckled and shook uncontrollably as the force nearly blasted him off his feet.

Dumbledore pressed his advantage after his mutated Stunning Curse shocked Harry.

"_Paliurus!_"

The ground cracked beneath his feet and giant roses inlaid with biting thorns rose from the cracks, constricting around him and attempting to snap his hands to his sides. He struggled with the rose wrapped around his wand arm, attempting to break his fingers and remove his wand from him, while its brothers attempted to pin him to the wall. He used his other hand to rip the rose of his wand arm and secured his digits around the wood.

"_Incendio!_"

He pushed a moderate amount of extra power in the spell. Tendrils of flames were spun from the end of his wand, attacking the flammable plants until they began to wilt and die, dropping to the ground as nothing more than charred greenery. The thorns had left their mark, and he could feel them still embedded within his skin, spilling blood after tarnishing his skin. He ignored it, instead choosing to point his wand at Dumbledore and bark out an angry spell.

"_Acerimbero!_"

A pelting hail of crude swords erupted from his wand, heading towards Dumbledore at a remarkable and unstoppable speed. Harry did not factor in Dumbledore's quick attack before his dealing with the blades.

"_Reducto!_"

A sizzling beam of red light struck a portion of the tower roof. It cracked; then it fell down on Harry in a rain of debris. Widening his eyes, Harry leapt from his position to the side, landing on the ground, while the flock of rocks fell down on his previous position. While he did avoid being crushed, a few rocks dropped heavily on one of his legs and he cried out in pain as he heard a crack that signified the breaking of bones.

Noticing the approaching footsteps of his attacker, he attempted to push the rocks of his leg, but no use; there were too many and they were far too weighty. Dumbledore was close by, now, and Harry whipped out his head to look with hatred at the failure of a man. He was without much injury, save for an ugly wound at his cheek that would obviously leave a scar. Not even magic could heal that fully. It appeared as though Dumbledore had cut it a little too close. Broken fragments of what used to be the blades he had sent at Dumbledore laid about his feet, while others were transfigured into what appeared to be unremarkable stones.

Harry smirked at the fact that he had injured Dumbledore, but he knew very well that he had to escape. He was in no possible way even close to Dumbledore in skill with a wand, despite that he was quite proficient in his own right. His eyes flitted across the room, trying to take anything in that he might use to his advantage.

The portion of the roof that had fallen upon him now opened up to the starry night sky. A pile of debris was to his left, part of it resting on his broken leg. The rest of the room was charred and in varying state of ruin from his first curse. The desk was torn to pieces, most of the instruments that Dumbledore used were broken and so were the tables they rested on.

Dumbledore was now eight feet away, observing Harry carefully, his wand leveled at his quarry. Harry decided to buy some time.

"What I don't get," Harry said dejectedly, "is why you want Voldemort to kill me. Why didn't you just spare yourself the fucking trouble and kill me when I was a baby, huh?"

Dumbledore stopped, considering him for a while. "I'm afraid that wasn't possible," sighed Dumbledore. "I would've spared you this torment, but if anyone was to kill you, the piece of Lord Voldemort's soul would leave your dying body and attach itself to the perpetrator. The Horcrux would therefore live on. But if Lord Voldemort kills you, then his soul would return to him. Alas, if it were only different. I wish you could have lived a better life."

"You're an idiot," Harry said, shaking his head. "Are you forgetting something?"

"And what might that be?"

"The prophecy, you dolt!" Harry said. "_Either must die at the hand of the other_, remember?!"

"The prophecy will be resolved in the end," Dumbledore said firmly. "For Lord Voldemort shall defeat you."

"That's not what I fucking mean!" he growled angrily at Dumbledore. "Who the hell is going to defeat Voldemort, then? He has to die by _my _hand."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Think not that I have not looked at every possible angle in which the prophecy can be resolved in our favor. In this, your death is the factor in all of this," said Dumbledore.

Harry said, "But you see, I don't give a fuck about your perception of the prophecy. So you can just stuff that up your wrinkly arse."

"There is no escaping destiny Harry," Dumbledore said, peering at Harry. "And destiny dictates that you _must _die."

""That's your warped sense of _destiny_, Dumbledore," Harry replied angrily. "Destiny hasn't planned to off me! You have, and you're not some deity, as far as I can see!"

"There is no reason for your existence," Dumbledore said, coldly. "There is no proof to say otherwise. You are a Horcrux, meant to be destroyed. You have no other fate. It is time to accept that. A Horcrux can never be able to destroy its master. Once you are killed, another could defeat Lord Voldemort. Do you not see? It is you that is the factor in all of this! Only your death will result in the death of Tom Riddle, and so the prophecy is fulfilled."

"Nothing is set in stone, damn it!" Harry said vehemently. "The prophecy doesn't say much. I'm not going to die because you judge that I have to! You don't have the right to decide anyone's death."

"That may be so," Dumbledore replied. "But I must for the greater good. I shall summon the Aurors, Harry, and they, they shall take you to Azkaban. There your will shall be broken and you can be more easily…persuaded."

"Nice code for Imperius, you bastard," Harry said. "Oh, and by the way? Go fuck yourself. There's no way I'm going to go to Azkaban."

And he whipped his wand.

"_Agito Rabidus!_"

All the debris, all the broken objects, all the sharp remains of Dumbledore's precious instruments, were sent blasting into the air, a wind of monstrous proportions suddenly blasting across the room. This had the effect of raising the debris off his leg, therefore releasing it from its blasted hold. The wind threatened to throw Harry into the air, but he held on desperately to the doorframe behind him, while objects moving at high speeds continued to whirl randomly around the room, somehow avoiding hitting Harry but striking Dumbledore head on.

Gritting his teeth at the force that tried to blast him into the air, he struggled to hold on to his wand as he moved it to his broken leg.

"_Medicoro Crurus!_" His voice sounded distorted even to himself, as the wind stole his voice from him. But it did the trick. His leg was snapped painfully back in its socket and the damage was temporarily healed. The spell made it hell for him to fix permanently later on, but it was worth it on the battlefield.

What he was about to attempt was certainly going to be one of his craziest moves he had made yet. But he hardly cared, for his personal philosophy was that in times of danger, dangerous moves were oftentimes the best moves. He submitted to the force of his own spell, being completely blasted from the door frame to the roof. His digits desperately scratched at the cracks in the roof, attempting to fix himself to the ceiling so as not to bounce around the room like a fool.

He managed to latch a hold upon one of the wider cracks, while the wind battered his legs carelessly on the roof. He gritted his teeth at the pain, while flitting his eyes, trying to squint through the storm of debris at a figure belonging to Dumbledore. He was holding on to the window frame, his wand held before him, batting away any debris that came near him. Thanking whatever deity there was that Dumbledore was still busy, he crawled across the roof, upside down, resisting the gale that attempted to throw him off course.

He moved ever so slowly. Several times he almost lost his grip, but he quickly scrabbled at the roof until he regained his hold.

Finally, he reached his destination. The section in the roof where it opened up to the starry night sky. He poked his head to observe his demented destination. He took a long, deep breath.

"Harry, NO!"

That was Dumbledore. But it was too late.

Harry had vaulted himself into the night sky, where the force behind the wind sprung him up, up, and up to the stars. He was outside the tower now and he prayed dearly that he wouldn't fall, no, that he would develop some kind of latent flying ability...

But just when he though his prayer would be answered, he suddenly stopped rising. He neither went up or down, he was simply frozen in midair.

For half a second, he saw the moon above him, bigger than he had ever seen it before, strangely. He felt the wind that was blowing his black cloak haphazardly around him, sweeping his hair back maniacally.

There was silence.

But it ended and the fall began.

He dove to the ground headfirst, the wind threatening to sear his skin off his face. The cloak trailed after him as he pelted fast and uncontrollably at the grassy grounds of Hogwarts. His wand was still in his hand. He struggled to level it as his altitude decreased rapidly. He was almost about to collide with the ground…

But his arm snapped and his wand was pointed at the ground.

"_ARRESTO MOMENTUM!_"

He felt himself slowing down as he reached the ground, but even still, moving at a high pace. He gritted his teeth, and flipped in the air, so that even should he break something, it wouldn't be his head.

At an unknown speed, he landed on the ground.

Almost as soon as he landed, he rolled to the ground, moaning. His leg hurt like hell, but as the pain soon subsided, he realized that they were certainly not broken, though he certainly couldn't imagine the latent damage to his temporarily healed leg. But he was relieved, for he had no lasting damage from that fall. He expected that he's have some trouble approaching any heights after this, what with his already bad fear of heights.

He rose shakily to his feet, just in time to notice a silvery bird erupt from the window of the Headmaster's Tower, flapping its wings and heading towards a group of figures in front of the Hogwarts Gates.

"Oh…"

Whatever curse on his lips quickly died as beams of shimmering red lights shot at him from the far away Aurors.

He sprinted across the grounds, avoiding the sickly beams of light by weaving between them, attempting to escape the curses of the Aurors. He had only one chance to escape and he was not going to waste it. He ran towards the high walls surrounding the castle. Spotting this movement, the Ministry Aurors moved to obstruct his path, running across the line of the walls.

He had almost reached the walls, before a luminous red beam of magic struck the ground next to him and he was suddenly tossed to the ground by the resulting explosion of earth. He was blasted off his feet and he landed on his head. This had the result of dizzying him as he attempted to get up from his position, before stumbling back to the ground. The Aurors reached him, suddenly surrounding him in a tightly-knit circle.

"Harry Potter!" announced a tall, dark man with a deep, normally calming voice. "You are under arrest for supposed use of one of the Unforgivable Curses. Drop your weapon or we will be forced to use force."

Harry, dazed, struggled to get up. "Come on, Kingsley," Harry said shakily. "I thought we were mates, you and I."

"Potter, drop your weapon!" Kingsley repeated.

Harry shook his head, shaking the dizziness out of his system. "Sorry, can't do that."

"Potter!"

But too late, Harry had pointed his wand at the ground and twirled it with a downward circular motion.

"_Tripudio –_"

An Auror screamed, "No! _Fervefacio!_" While Harry was in the middle of his incantation, a blast of shimmering magic blasted off one Auror's wand and struck Harry in his arm, slowly starting to melt his skin with unbearable and immaterial heat. He could feel everything _burning_!

The pain overloaded his system, he had to cry out, the pain was unbearable, he had to stop the incantation. But no, he only had one chance, he had to get out. A cry did ring out of his mouth:

"– _Precelsus!_"

His legs seemed to carry supernatural strength within them, strength Harry was certainly not used to. But he bent his knees, and leaped.

He sailed up and up as Aurors cursed at him with streaks of luminous magic that, with his supernatural rising speed, completely missed. But he felt a curse blast the air around him with some telekinetic shockwave, which veered him off course and over the walls of Hogwarts.

As he twisted haphazardly in the middle of the air, he saw a streak of red light aimed to stun him. He could feel the electrifying shivers everyone felt when magic was very near. He closed his eyes as the curse approached, ready to strike…

With a crack, he Disapparated.

After all, Hogwarts was designed to keep people out, not in.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter has been edited. I hope you like this new version better than the last!**

**I didn't particularly like the last version, as it seemed far too convenient, Harry's escape from Hogwarts. Tell me if you think this is better, all those who have read this before.**

**EDIT: Dialogue is made better now. Enjoy.**


	3. First Phase

(**A/N: THE SECOND CHAPTER HAS BEEN COMPLETELY REVAMPED, SO READ THAT FIRST**)

**The Outsider  
Chapter 3: **_First Phase_

The rain fell in heaps upon a shack in the middle of nowhere, thunder crackling its vengeance from the skies. The house, once solitary within the dark, was lit up by a brief flash of lightning, lightening that charred the already murky brown of the land surrounding the hovel. It was a small, shaky, and wooden shack, with barely a few windows and a thatched roof. It had the look about it as if it had once been an active farm, but the barn house close by had not housed any animals for quite some time, and the farmland around the building had not laid crops for many years.

With the house falling under the category of 'abandoned', one would be quite surprised to note a dark figure, limping to the abode, his arms at his chest, one of them cradling the other. The gate through the tall fence swung open with the creak of rusted metal, allowing the cloaked man passage, whereupon he stumbled across the winding asphalt pathway leading to the house. Paying no heed to the ramshackle state of the building, he swung open the door with his uninjured arm, and walked into the house.

Harry arrived in a completely bare hallway that still looked as if it was newer than what was expected, given the state of his home. It took him slow, measuring steps to reach the cupboard under the stairs. Two vials of potions were quickly extracted and he set himself down, leaning against the shut door of the storage space. His fingers twisted around the clasp of his robe and he undid it, letting the cloak fall off of him. The black T-shirt he was wearing was enough to reveal the blotchy coloring of his injured arm.

Harry shook his head at the disgusting sight. "Whoever fucking did that better watch out," he muttered grimly under his breath. He had already stopped the curse from doing any more damage, and it had stopped burning like hell, but the pain that remained as a dull residue of the wound still shook through him, mainly because of the fact that his much of the skin on his arm had fallen away.

Fumbling with one of the healing potions he had, he uncorked it, only using his uninjured arm, and took a slow, measured swig from it. The now half-empty potion was set down on the floor and he grabbed the other one, this time holding his wand as well. Sighing softly, bracing himself against the expected pain, he tapped his leg with his wand. His leg suddenly broke yet again, though this time it was much more painful. He only grunted and then set down his wand. He'd have to set it back in its socket, but manually. If he hadn't used that quick spell from before, it would have been easy to do the normal way.

The pain was yet again even worse as he wrenched his leg forcefully back in its socket. His bone now set, he grabbed the other potion and drank it in one go. Immediately the pain lessened but did not go away, but it was enough for him to get up unsteadily to lean up against the cupboard. His arm was steadily going back to its normal state, his skin knitting back together. He'd give it an hour and the process would be done.

But his leg needed him to go to sleep for twelve hours for it to heal until he could at least limp with it. He struggled to get up the stairs, stumbling along step by step, until he reached the next landing. A bedroom door opened and, seeing a weak and shaky bed, he hoisted himself upon it, letting a sigh of relief fly from his lips. It was not long before he dropped off to sleep.

* * *

"_Harry!" an unrelenting voice hissed at him, but he was too far gone in his slumber to acquiesce with the commands of the perpetrator._

"_Merlin, wake up!" This time the bothersome voice was accompanied by a solid shove. The movement jolted Harry from his doze and rolled him over the breadth of his four-poster bed. The last recesses of his sleep left his fogged mind as he landed hard on his side. The mild annoyance for the little twit who was waking him up quickly transformed into anger._

"_Bloody hell, what the fuck do you want from me, Ron?" Harry growled angrily, his brows flaring furiously at the red-haired moron._

_The moron, as all morons tended to be, was ignorant. "Harry, they've got her!"_

_Huh?_

"_Got who? Your fucking sweetheart?" asked Harry exasperatedly. _

"_They've got Ginny!" Ron shouted. It seemed as though he was incapable of perceiving the fact that Harry could hear just fine._

_Harry blinked. "Really, Ron, I'd never have pegged you as incestuous," he said slowly, and then scrunched up his face. "Newsflash, mate, that's just sick."_

"_Shut up! The Heir of Slytherin's got my fucking sister! I've got no fucking time for your jokes!" said Ron._

_Harry appeared only slightly astonished at this turn of events. "So what's a bloke supposed to do?" Harry said. "What the bloody hell do you want from me?"_

"_Don't give me that pile of cow dung, you're Harry Potter! After all those books you've been reading –" _

"_And why are you so interested in what I was doing?" challenged Harry._

"_It's not important! Come on, you have to save Ginny!" Ron said impatiently._

"_You want me to rescue the fan girl?" Harry said. His stony control over his features fractured and a low chuckle slipped through. "Besides being utterly annoying, she has nothing to do with me. I'm not some fucking hero rescuing people left and right, you know, why don't you just let the professors handle it?"_

"_The professors aren't doing anything! They're going to shut down the school and leave Ginny to die and they're making Lockhart try rescuing her. Not that he's trying; he's already run out of the school, the coward!"_

"_Fine! Go play hero, then!" Harry said, gesturing dismissively as he rose from his position on the soft ground. "She's _your_ sister."_

_Ron seemed unable to obey such a simple order, staring at Harry, absolutely speechless. He recovered soon enough, though. "I-If you don't help me, I-I'll tell Dumbledore about what you've been up to!"_

_Harry, who had been steadfastly concerned over Ron's apparent interest of his sudden reading hobby, shifted uncomfortably. "Like what?" Harry said, hoping that Ron was simply bluffing._

"_Like all those times you've been leaving the dorms at night with your invisibility cloak, all those times I see you coming back from the Library with your arms full of books from the Restricted Section!"_

_Harry's face was layered by a dark visage as he regarded Ron who was unleashing the multitude of secrets he kept, one by one. While in truth the visage was based on the actual dread he felt inside, it was certainly not for the reasons that Ron expected and welcomed. No, it was for the fact that Ron had definitely revealed his knowledge before with Dumbledore and this was simply to convince him to come and save his little sister. The bluff Ron had just performed was therefore lost on him._

_He didn't give Ron the luxury of an answer. Not that he could think of any suitable response to deign Ron with._

"_So come on, let's go, Ginny could be dead already!" Ron said urgently. He grabbed Harry by the arm and attempted to leverage Harry into leaving the room._

"_Take your hands off me," Harry said with gnashed teeth. He gave Ron a hefty shove that seemed completely disproportional with his small size. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_But apparently, the moron wasn't done yet. He glared at Harry furiously, this time determination hardening within his eyes. "Listen Potter, you'll come with me, or I'll tell the Ministry about your little murder last year!"_

"_What?"_

"_You remember Quirill, right?" Ron said victoriously. "The bloke who you burned the brains of? The Ministry isn't too chicken to send an underage murderer to Azkaban, you know."_

"_Fuck you."_

_

* * *

_The shack he was currently residing in had once upon a time been owned by an Irish cousin of his mother. She had inherited this ramshackle house in the middle of Northern Ireland, although Harry had the feeling she hadn't been too favored by her cousin to be left with such a hovel. 

Nevertheless, it had been an excellent early hiding for Lily and James Potter before they decided to move to Godric's Hollow for the Fidelius, as it was a more comfortable place for such a long time spent trapped away from the rest of the world. As a result, it harbored many finely crafted wards made of amazing feats of magic that only such a finely-honed witch as Lily Potter would know how to create. A particular section of the wards allowed any to perform magic within without being detected by the Ministry, which was also in control of Northern Ireland as well as the rest of the United Kingdom.

The wards were thusly very appropriate for an underage wizard such as himself to perform magic without the Ministry discovering him. No doubt Dumbledore would not have expected him to be able to use magic, and that expectation gave Harry an advantage over the traitorous old man.

Currently, he was tweaking the finer points of his plans. Generally, what his plots needed was a sharp mind to keep him two steps ahead. He had that in abundant, but staying two steps ahead of the game would still be difficult. Every circumstance had to be analyzed carefully. Every situation had to be prepared for.

But right now he needed someone within Hogwarts. A spy. He had the perfect candidate in mind and he knew a way to send in a message to Hogwarts without being noticed.

A dim light from a luminous sphere of magic lit the fine office Harry was working within, shining a deep yellow light on the piece of parchment before him. He pondered on what he should inscribe upon the parchment, before deciding that the simpler, the better. Explanations would be saved for another time.

_Umsy,_

_The usual place. Use the Everchanging Path. 10:00 PM_

The piece of inked parchment was folded with hurried fingers until it passed as inconsequential. He left the mahogany desk he had been sitting at – one of the only preserved furniture in this hovel, exiting the office.

Right there, next to the kitchen, was an oil painting of a murky, dark tunnel. It was a variation of the Everchanging Path, one that allowed him to send messages. He placed the note carefully on a particular spot on the frame and spoke loudly and clearly his candidate's name. With a luminous flash of magic, the parchment disappeared, suddenly appearing on a pedestal within the Room of Requirement, before vanishing again to the bag of his, hopefully, future spy.

It had been a full day since he had arrived here in his new residence and the morning and afternoon had been spent generally resting in his dusty and decrepit bed. He had gotten up to do a bit of magic studying, noticing his healing leg, as he had predicted, still caused a bit of a limp, but it would disappear soon enough.

Right now the best course of action was sleep, as he needed to heal. He had been revising over the Glamour Charm, as difficulties had always hindered his progress with this particular spell, despite his affinity for Charms. Tomorrow, he would need the spell, so it was best for him to leave prepared.

He limped to the previously broken down bathroom, which he had spelled to return to its original working condition. He stared at his face, modified exaggeratedly by a Glamour Charm, a smile tugging at his lips.

It was perfect.

* * *

"_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."_

Eric, the badly-shaven head of security, set down his copy of the _Daily Prophet. _He could, thereafter, proudly state that only a twitch betrayed his disgust at the new arrival to the government center, as his particular profession required him to meet people of all sizes and colors, although this new visitor was certainly the worst of them all.

Only a few strands of waning hair covered his pockmarked and extremely wrinkled face. The smile on his face, which would have looked polite on any other's, was making matters even more unbearable, as the marks on his face seemed to stretch even more the wider his smile appeared. And the horrible disgusting blemish, a mole, right on his nose was absolutely ghastly. And by the smell of it, he seemed unconcerned about his hygiene.

The security line obstructed the hideous man's path, but he seemed unconcerned. Eric rose from his comfortable seat behind the desk, deciding to forego the standard concealment checks, as they took fifteen minutes and in any case, were used only on suspicious figures. Considering the man's hideousness, Eric mused, there was no reason the man was magically concealed. None he had met in his lifetime of service would ever choose something so…revolting.

Eric tried to muster a welcoming smile, but he had no doubt it looked more of a grimace. "Please state your business with the Ministry, visitor," he spoke, uniformly.

The man continued smiling brazenly. "I'm here to check the public records," he said, speaking in a scratchy voice that made the two guards standing beside Eric shift uncomfortably. His barely understandable Scottish accent certainly didn't help matters either. "See I got me a sweetheart, and I don't think she's particularly legit. Smashing hot alright, but I'm not sure she's been truthful. If she does end up illicit, I'll find me another hottie to go to the bed with, you know what I mean, chaps –"

"Thank you, sir," interrupted Eric, trying to shake the image of this disgusting man 'on the job'. "Before you pass this security line, please place all your magical items on this desk."

"Alright, laddies," said the man, taking out only a weather-beaten and almost ruined wand from his deep black robes. "It's only me wand, you know. What's a bloke to carry with him?"

"If you'll step past the security line?" said Eric, placing the wand on a brass instrument which resembled a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate and then produced a slip of parchment from a slit in the base. While the instrument was working he observed the man walk through the long golden line. Nothing happened. He had a few simple concealment charms on, but it was obvious that the man was hiding something hideous. They were charms that were popular with witches, so Eric ignored them, although he did shiver at the thought of how this man actually looked like.

He took the parchment from the instrument and read: "Six inches, unicorn hair, been in use for…fifty years." He looked at the man. "Short wand, sir."

"It's not the size, lad, it's how you use it," the man said, winking at Eric. The head of security could not suppress a look of disgust from passing over his face. He did not need to hear _that _from this man!

"Thank you, sir," he said uniformly. His features were schooled back to appearing uninterested. "Please have a nice day."

It was a clear dismissal, and the man knew that. Eric sighed with relief as the man decided to deign someone different with his unabashed sexual innuendo.

* * *

A hearty chuckle threatened to overtake him, but he needed to stick to the plan. Although it was hardly necessary, the look on the guard's face was absolutely priceless. 

His disguise, involving a ridiculously ghastly monster of a man, had been perfect to avoid the more advanced concealment detectors. He had twisted the charm to make it appear as though there were a few minor concealment charms. The variation of the Glamour Charm he had used was extremely hard to detect, but Harry didn't want to risk it. It was one of his smartest moves, really, making himself look disgusting. It was true nobody would use a Glamour Charm to look like _that_! Admittedly, his little prank helped his operation, as it made the security in an even worse hurry to move him along.

He looked around at the public records library, noting its gigantic size. He would spend the entire day searching for what he was here for. No, it was best to ask for help. So, he approached the reception desk and leered at the young woman who was standing behind it. It appeared as though she didn't have as much control as the security guard, looking at him with such blatant disgust, made even worse when she noticed his suggestive looks to her chest.

"Can I help you, sir?" she forced out. "What do you need from the Library of Public Records?"

He looked her up and down, just a little fun for him. "You got anything for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, lass?" he said, exaggerating his already spelled Scottish accent. The young woman shivered uncontrollably at his obvious interest, but she was scowling at him ferociously.

"Other side, row before the last," she snapped out, turning away from him and banging the book she was reading on the other side of the desk.

"Ah, this one's got a fiery temper," he said, grinning. "I'd always liked those ones in bed."

She quickly spun on him again, but by then he was already away.

Arriving at his destination, Harry looked over all the books, containing records related to matters of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "This is going to take all day," he sighed.

And he set himself to work. Using the broken down and ill-fitted spare wand he had purchased from Knockturn Alley before visiting the Ministry, he copied the details of every single worker within the DLME, making sure every single word was in the rolls of parchment he had brought with him. It was a long and tiring work, and he had to set up charms to give the illusion of him poring over a single book, as it was illegal, what he was currently performing. Well, he was already a wanted man, so it was hardly important if he something illegal.

It took him all day, especially because of the new arrivals at the Department, what with the importance of the war. But he worked tirelessly, harder than he had ever done, even while he was still training himself within Hogwarts, working hard to learn everything he could.

This time, this very illegal act was important to the war. And it was important to his plans. He couldn't work alone, that was for sure.

Later that week he would enact the first phase. In the meanwhile he would need to speak to his hopefully future spy, find exactly which individual he would be using, and, most importantly, begin the search for Horcruxes. He didn't expect to go anywhere, but it was better than doing nothing.

The second war still hadn't really started. No, not yet.

* * *

**A/N: Here we are, the third chapter. If you can look at the last chapter, I've completely revamped it, so all those who have already read chapter two, make sure you read it.**

**I've had two people suggest I turn off the anonymous review block. I've done that and thanks for mentioning it to me.**

**I'm sorry this is a bit late, but I was in the middle of my mid-term exams, so I was too busy to write. Now, however, I'll be updating every week. Continue reviewing, please. I'll be starting to reply to everyone, so if you have any question or qualm, just review.**


	4. Burying the Seeds

**The Outsider  
Chapter 4: **_Burying the Seeds_

The _Daily Prophet _he had scavenged from a trash bin in the Ministry was laid open in front of him. A moving picture of him in a dark mood was glaring at him from the front page.

It was better than what he had expected.

It appeared as though the last traces of doubt within the public were still large enough for them not to trust Albus Dumbledore's words completely. The downside of this, however, was that the public did not trust Harry that much either and so they were torn between supporting him and demeaning him. There was a margin of people who believed that Dumbledore was an old coot and he was probably out of his mind when he alleged that Harry was a criminal. There was another margin of people who believed that Harry had his brains fried by that Avada Kedavra curse and he was out of his mind when he used the Unforgivables.

The rest of the public seemed divided. Who was it that deserved their trust, their unofficial leader, or their savior?

Quite a dilemma.

The _Daily Prophet _itself appeared undecided. It had, however, brought in all of the doubts of the public, summarized by a few quotes from concerned citizens, and then commented on the fact that, instead of submitting to the Aurors and proclaiming his supposed innocence, he instead chose to escape conviction. This was an obvious sign of guilt, the _Daily Prophet _noted, but it had amended it by stating that nothing was proved or disapproved. It was perhaps the most unbiased article Harry had ever seen written in this toe rag of a newspaper.

Rufus Scrimgeour, apparently, was unavailable for comment, although the current Head of the Auror Office, Albert Apsley, did announce that, "Potter, as a deluded, mediocre teenager, is currently at the bottom of our list. Our work against He Who Must Not Be Named is far more important than some nut of a sixteen-year-old." It was certainly heavy criticism towards Harry, although, at the moment, he hardly cared about anyone's opinion of him. He supposed that his liberating of this newspaper from the steely jaws of its trash bin was simply motivated by curiosity, not concern over what the wizarding world thought of him.

Deciding that he might yet find something useful within the newspaper, he flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the headlines. An attack somewhere in Essex, the permanent denial of Madame Marchbanks to return to the Wizengamot, an article describing the rumors of some mutated humanoid dragon that would have made more sense appearing in the Quibbler, an interview with Ronald Weasley…

Huh?

He flipped backwards to the page emblazoned by a black-and-white picture of himself and Ron, both eleven, playing chess together. He growled at the picture that reminded him of his days of ignorant insolence, but he moved his eyes towards the article below.

Rita Skeeter and Ronald Weasley had apparently met each other at Hogwarts. No doubt they gossiped about him, the stalkers. Harry could certainly see where Ginny Weasley got her stalker attitude, for it certainly was in the family. The difference, however, was that Ronald was the kind of 'I'm-sick-and-I-know-what-you're-wearing' kind of stalker. You know, the kind of stalker that keeps threatening to kill you? The kind of stalker who's got something close to obsession with the stalked victim.

Honestly Harry could never understand Ron's continuous spying. He personally wouldn't devote that much time to a single person just on some old coot's orders. Maybe that was just him and he was different.

In any case, background secrets that had been kept for so long had been revealed in shell-shocking bluntness. Any romanticism about Ron and Harry's supposed friendship was utterly shattered. It was revealed that Ron and Harry had had a falling out during second year (the idiot still didn't know that Harry had known he was a spy since the end of first year) and after that, Harry, strangely, would make time to somehow play chess with him or something similar in a public area. They always appeared as though they were the best friends, which Ron mentioned was extremely strange. Harry bet this was news to Dumbledore as well. The pretend-friendship with Ron had been only there to trick Dumbledore into believing his spy was working properly. Ron played along because being friends with Harry Potter would be about as much fame as he would get.

After Harry had discovered the true nature of Ronald Weasley and the fact that he knew a lot of what he shouldn't have, he had made sure to feed the idiot such false information, so that Dumbledore could be tricked into believing that Harry only snuck around, while honing his magic with proper books, was to not worry his 'friends'. Well, not in so many words, but he made sure that from the clues he had dropped to Ron, Dumbledore would deduce that was indeed the case. He had been careful about the Room of Requirement, but apparently the Headmaster had other ways of knowing.

Secret snippets about Harry's personal life were revealed in the article. All about seeing him bring books from the Restricted Section, all about him almost never staying in his bed at night and sneaking around the castle without permission. Ronald topped it off by saying that Harry always seemed mentally unbalanced, while the moron remained completely ignorant to the fact that he could qualify as nutty, spending all his time _engrossed _with someone else. The name Weasley had been permanently been associated with the art of stalking. Of course, he didn't consider the twins as such, and technically, he had never spoken so much to Charlie and Bill, but that was the general air he received from the Weasleys.

Considering, however, Arthur's stalker-attitude to everything muggle and Madame Weasley's stalker-attitude towards Gilderoy Lockhart and generally towards everyone who takes a single step into her kitchen, it really shouldn't surprise anyone.

Harry closed the paper before he was halfway through the article. There was no point in reading the obvious crap. Whatever spark of hope that had blemished when he read the first article vanished, for it was apparent that, after reading this interview with an 'inside perspective' on Harry Potter's life, most of his supposed supporters would quickly decide that he was delusional and that it was foolish to assume that Harry was in his right mind. He cursed at himself for his foolish hope. Hadn't he learned from Fifth Year?

The news about him being a criminal had taken a day to reach the Daily Prophet. No doubt a ruckus had ensued at the Ministry after the knowledge of his criminal activities came out to the public. And in the midst of it Dumbledore and the Aurors had to have given their testimonies. It was therefore expected that there was a delay.

At the time when he had written to his hopefully future spy, it had been midnight and he had expected him to read it in the morning. So, therefore, his meeting would be today. He had an hour left until his quarry arrived, so he rose from the comfortable chair he had conjured earlier and left the same office he was now spending most of his time in. He went up to his bedroom, taking in the messed state of his bed. He shook his head and grabbed his favorite black cloak, pulling the hood up.

He left the house, walking down the asphalt pathway. His injured leg only gave tiny twinges of pain now. It would be fully healed tomorrow, by which time he should be prepared to '_bury the seeds_' as it were.

Right now, he needed to scout the area where he was going to meet his spy. He trusted him more than anyone else, but then, that was no comparison. It would take some time for him to come so it would be a long wait, although it was certainly would be worth his time should it turn out to be an ambush.

He arrived at the gate and swung it open, stepping past the fence. He turned on his feet and Disapparated.

• • • • •

With a crack like a gunshot, Harry Apparated on a building somewhere in London. Upon his arrival, he quickly rolled to the ground, so as not to offer any enemy an incriminating glimpse.

He was nervous about the inhabitants of the building. There was an apartment in there that housed a few magical people, as Harry knew from previous visits. While this allowed him to use magic with it being attributed to the owners of that apartment, it worried him that the sound of his Apparation might have alerted them to his presence.

He waited a few minutes, barely noticing the cold wind that was biting at his skin. The sounds of light footsteps caused him to start and he looked around, but he sighed in relief when he discovered it was nothing more than a black cat prowling along the edges of the roof. After checking the cat for any tell-tale signs of Animagi, he decided it was time he started investigating the area. He rolled on his stomach, while still remaining pressed up against the roof. He crawled slowly until he reached the edge of the building. His eyes scanned the side alley he saw beneath him.

This was their rendezvous point. Should anything happen to any of them, they would meet here in case of emergency. The letter telling the other to meet with the one arranging the rendezvous would uniformly state, 'The usual place.'

It was dark there, that was for sure. It certainly needed a good cleaning, what with worn newspapers and beer cans littering the floor. There was a single, large metal garbage bin, one of those that actually had some metal door or cover. It had no inhabitants, but a few cars could be heard honking in the distance. A secluded area that no one visited. Not to mention a dead end.

He kept his wand on him, his eyes narrowed at the alley. Now, all he needed was to wait.

Half-an-hour later, something creaked below. Harry narrowed his eyes and retracted his head slightly from the roof so he could not be seen.

The door to the garbage bin was silently opened upwards and out came a figure clad in black. The man hoisted himself out of the bin, which, strangely, appeared empty. The door to the bin was just as quickly closed again, and the man turned his head left and right, trying to spot something. Harry licked his lips in apprehension, mutely snaking his wand to the edge of the roof, the tip of the wood pointed at the alleyway beneath. Taking a deep breath, he moved his wand in a straight line along the roof's edge, the tip suddenly glowing dimly.

_Homenum Revelio!_

The Human Revealing Charm scoured the length and breadth of the alleyway.

Nothing. Only one.

_Homenum Revelio!_

The wand tip glowed again, this time Harry twisting his wand in a circular sweep, directing it to everything around him.

Again, nothing where it shouldn't be.

Sighing in relief, he pocketed his wand, but he kept a firm grip on it. He might be later accused of acting like Moody, but there was always harm in taking foolish risks. He Disapparated again, this time the short distance between the two points only producing two consecutive pops.

He Apparated right in front of the figure, his hood still lowered over his face. The other man also had his hood up, but he held up his hands and pushed back it back.

Brown hair, grown longer than usual, obstructed his face. His previously round face now revealed a strong jaw and high cheekbones. A wicked scar extended from his right cheek down to his neck.

"Harry."

He spoke.

"…Neville," Harry greeted. "Nice to see you came." He copied Neville, dropping his hood from his face, giving him an eyeful of a paper-white round face with blue eyes and blonde hair. His voice was the same, though. Neville looked at him stonily, their eyes meeting.

"You hit Dumbledore with your Swordstorm Curse," Neville said emotionlessly, as if his statement was fact. It was.

"Yeah? How'd you figure that?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows at Neville.

"I'm familiar to it," Neville said, gesturing to his scar. "…Thanks to you," added Neville, a touch too bitterly.

Harry palmed his forehead.

"Neville!" he exclaimed. "Why do you have to always mention it?"

"Excuse me, I was under the impression that if we weren't in the Room of Requirement, I could have technically died of blood loss," Neville accused. "If you had been just a little more careful where you pointed your wand –"

"But I was pointing it at the target!" Harry defended. "It's not my fault you're clumsy, you know, to this day I don't get how you could have stumbled from the other side of the room, tripping over all the equipment, into the range of my wand!"

"So? You _knew_ I was clumsy, why didn't you warn me?" pressed Neville.

"Well, truthfully, I hadn't expected you to be clumsy enough to do _that_," admitted Harry. "That was just weird, mate. It's why we started those exercises you kept complaining about anyway."

"Whatever. Well, I'm not clumsy anymore," Neville said. "So why do you always have to call me Umsy, huh?"

Harry struggled to keep a straight face.

"Well, you see, it's quite ingenious," said Harry. "I mean, just who would have guessed that Umsy was related to clumsy?"

"Yes, who could've guessed?" said Neville darkly. "I mean, it's not like it couldn't be found in _my_ bag and it's not like I'm thought of as clumsy."

Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Well, I suppose it did kind of stick after I…er…_accidentally_ called you Umsy."

"Yes, a_ccidentally_," Neville said, glaring at him. He really couldn't help it, but he sunk into a fit of sniggers at Neville's expense, while the other blushed crimson and cleared his throat. "Right. Okay then. We've gotten a little sidetracked here, so, back to the topic at hand…"

"Back to the topic at hand, alright," agreed Harry, sniggering again, much to Neville's chagrin. He averted his eyes from Harry and folded his arms, looking quite embarrassed. Harry's laughter died down soon enough, and he slung an arm around Neville's shoulders.

"So, care to explain to me why, the day after you told me you'd be out doing something important, I hear you've somehow assaulted Dumbledore and tried to _Imperio _him?" Neville asked noncommittally.

As they walked out of the alleyway, Harry said, "Well, it all began when…"

• • • • •

Half-an-hour later, they both could be found in a nearby diner. Sitting on a table where Neville had set up Notice-Me-Not Charms, they were both drinking drinks, their plates wiped clean. Indeed Harry looked quite satisfied at finally affording to eat something. It was a cozy place, this diner, one the two had visited once before and found to have extremely tasty food. There was a bar, but they didn't want to sit there, in full view. They were in the corner, actually, and they would have looked quite strange, dressed in their robes and cloaks. Thankfully, the muggle that attended to their orders had quickly settled down to wiping the bar clean, her thoughts completely diverted from the weird duet sitting in that table in that corner.

Neville leaned back in his seat, staring at Harry with something akin to shock on his face. And quite rightly so, for even Harry had been just as surprised when he discovered that Dumbledore had been trying to manipulate him to his death. Neville did not know anything about Horcruxes yet, as Harry was not ready to divulge that information yet. The reason behind Dumbledore's manipulations had been paraphrased by Harry, who stated that his death was apparently necessary for the defeat of Voldemort. He had explained to Neville his reasons for trying to break into the office, mentioning that Dumbledore had been giving him lessons about the history of Lord Voldemort. Neville knew all too well about Harry's sense of curiosity.

"Right then," Neville said, looking strangely windswept. "Dumbledore is a conniving bastard who has been attempting to kill you since you were this tall." He gestured. "You snuck into his office and you discovered his really, really big secret. Then you got caught and you completely turned the tower to ruins (all of us in the school woke up from that, you know). Then you proceeded to be chased by a couple of Aurors who tried to arrest you after Dumbledore alleged that you used the Imperius. You escaped by the strangest methods anyone has ever seen. Right then, excuse me while I take a moment to process this."

Harry blinked at him. He waited until the look of shock slowly melted from Neville's face, to be replaced by a look of comprehension.

"I was wondering about that, actually, after reading the _Daily Prophet_," Neville said slowly. "You know, about Ron saying you were a crazy mental psycho? What happened to you being friends?"

"Er, we actually had a large argument, which involved Ron blackmailing me to rescue his sister," he said. "'Course, we were never friends anyway. He was a spy of Dumbledore's, you know. Used him to keep tabs on me."

"O…K," Neville said carefully. "Hermione didn't look all that concerned about you either."

"You probably missed it," Harry said gloomily. "The part where she heard about the news and then started babbling to her neighbor about how fascinating it was. Most probably started shooting off hypothesizes about how I could have gone mental."

"Damn, Harry," said Neville, whistling. "And everyone thought you three were the 'Golden Trio'."

"Silly name, that," Harry said. "Truth is, I don't have any friends."

Harry didn't notice the slightly dark look that swiftly crossed Neville's face, which disappeared just as quickly.

"Well, not that I didn't believe in you from the beginning, I do believe your story," Neville said quietly. He paused and the two fell into silence. "So, what is it that you want from me?" he continued. Neville, smart, smart Neville, would not have assumed that Harry had called him here to reminisce about old times.

"About that," Harry said, chugging down the last dregs of his hot chocolate. "Dumbledore's going to be after me. He's probably already thought of a sneaky way to get me to kill myself. While I'd probably help him, since he does want to kill Voldemort, this is _my death _you're talking about."

"You've never liked it when somebody tried to kill you," Neville commented.

Harry continued as if Neville had not spoken. "So, I've got a plan –"

"You always do," Neville said. Harry rolled his eyes.

"And I don't want _his_ plans to interfere with mine," Harry said. "That's where you come in."

Neville nodded along for Harry to continue, his face curious.

"I want to know his every move," Harry said. "I want to know the student's allegiances, where they lie. I want to differentiate between the Dumbledore-worshipers and the real deal. And I especially want some information I can't access that is at Hogwarts."

"You want me as your spy," Neville said, with realization. Harry looked pleadingly at Neville, hoping he would say yes. Another silence descended upon them while Neville watched Harry, a deliberating expression on his face. He steeled himself and spoke.

"I can do whatever you want me to do, Harry," Neville said. "I know if I get caught it'll be bad for me, but who else can I work for? The Ministry? Dumbledore? They're no good for the revenge I want."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry sighed. "I really appreciate this."

"But, Harry. I can't give you much information about Dumbledore's 'every move'. I haven't once gone to his office."

Harry considered him for a moment, debating whether to tell him the exact details of his little plan detailing Neville's role. "I have something figured out," Harry said finally. "What I want you to do, firstly, is show your true skills." Neville, who had been drinking from his soft drink, nearly spat it out in surprise. He gulped it all down and stared at Harry.

"But you advised me the other time not to show_ my true skills_!" Neville exclaimed. "Something about Dumbledore paying too much attention to me."

"Things change," Harry said grimly. "Just trust me on this, Neville."

"Fine," Neville said, slumping back in his seat grumpily. "Have it your way. Just remember, when it crashed down around your ears, don't tell me I didn't warn you." Soon, Neville's face cheered. "On the bright side, I can show Malfoy a thing or two now…"

"Oh, I forgot about this," Harry said, grinning. "Make sure to turn Malfoy's life into hell. He's up to something and I don't want him going around unchecked. Keep an eye on him."

"Yessir!" Neville said, saluting him. "Do you mind too terribly if I enjoy this task? I mean this is kind of my new job."

"No, I don't mind," Harry said, chuckling. "I want you to do this to him; I had to pay him back for that Tripping Jinx of his someday…"

Harry explained his prank, and Neville grinned. "I'll get especial pleasure out of that," Neville said. "Don't worry about it, it'll be done."

"Good," Harry said. "So, Neville, what's been going on at Hogwarts?"

"Well, Dumbledore's certainly looking worried about something," Neville replied. "Didn't know just what about till now, thanks to you. After that smelly cauldron of lies he'd brewed with his interview with that Rita Skeeter, Ron's gotten a bit famous. You'd see a lot of the 'Dumbledore-worshipers' surrounding him and begging him to talk about how mental you are."

"Anyone who actually _knows _me can tell I'm not mental," grumbled Harry. "Bunch of nitwits."

"You are mental Harry," corrected Neville. Harry glared at him.

"Just because I worked you hard during training in the Room, doesn't mean I'm mental," Harry said exasperatedly.

"Sorry, but if you don't think you're mental when on the first day you made me do one-hundred push-ups _and_ sit-ups, then you need a reality check," Neville said. "Do you realize how much I ached for a _week_?"

"Yes, yes," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "How could I not, when you kept moaning about it? I especially can't forget how you whipped out your wand and cursed me when I told you we were doing the same routine the day after that one."

"I'm still sore about that," Neville said.

"You're still sore about every single thing that made you uncomfortable during your training," Harry said. "Never mind that you were the one who came begging me to teach you a few tricks with a wand."

"You still shouldn't have been so hard on me," Neville grumbled.

"Don't forget, that's exactly what made you this good, in what?" Harry said. "Four months?"

"Why do you always win these things?" Neville complained. When Harry hastened to open his mouth, Neville quickly intercepted him. "Whatever, never mind. Let's get back to how Hogwarts is like, alright?"

"Fine, change the subject, will you?" Harry said.

Neville ignored the jibe. "Hogwarts is a total battlefield at the moment," he said. "I have no idea why people get so caught up fighting about which one of the two most popular figures in the war is in the right. Hexes are flying everywhere at the moment, and those of us who aren't foolish to start a fight in the middle of the hallway have to hide out in our dormitories.

Harry whistled. "I didn't know the arguments were that big," Harry said. "So, who's got more supporters?"

"Dumbledore," said Neville bluntly. "And those who've publicly announced that they supported you are generally getting picked on. You should see the Ravenclaw table during meals, you can hear them debating on logical reasons behind supporting one or the other."

"I'll pass," Harry said dryly. "I've never liked one of Ravenclaw's mass debates. They bring up so many issues about something…"

"That's the general atmosphere here in Hogwarts," Neville said. "The chaos at learning that their 'Chosen One' is accused of the Unforgivable is quite breathtaking, but expected. We've always been big on icons and martyrs."

Harry threaded his fingers through his unruly hair, thinking fast. "Well, I hadn't expected even this little to support me," Harry mused. He glanced at Neville. "I've got to ask you something. Can you make a list of all those who're behind me?"

"Sure thing," Neville agreed, glancing at his watch. He looked apologetically at Harry. "Sorry, mate, I got to go. It's getting late."

"Alright, Neville," Harry said. "Just one thing."

He took out a slip of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Neville. It read:

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_I am Lord Voldemort_

Neville glanced at him sharply. "What's this about Voldemort?"

"Lord Voldemort is a pseudonym-anagram, if something like that exists," Harry said. "He's the alter ego of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Neville blinked, and then looked down at the parchment. "I see," he said.

"I guess this time you mean it literally," Harry said. "Anyway, you can find a trophy for him in the Trophy Room. I want you to check that and see in which year he was at Hogwarts, I sort of forgot. Check the library, you'll find information about all the past students there in the yearbook section."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Neville exclaimed. "Do you know how large the yearbook section is?"

"I know Neville," Harry said. "But this is important and I can't go to the library myself. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but please do it."

Neville sighed. "Fine. Since you're a good bloke and all that. So, what is it exactly that you want me to look for?"

"I want details from his home life, the address to the orphanage he lived in, and some teachers' notes about Riddle, as well as some details from his general profile."

"Alright, you got it," Neville said, pocketing the parchment Harry had given him and rising from his seat. He took out his wand and started running it up and down his obvious scar. It shimmered, and then disappeared completely, while suddenly Neville grimaced uncomfortably. "Fucking arse this is annoying," Neville growled. "I feel so…stuffy!"

"Aren't you used to the concealment charm by now, Neville?" Harry asked.

"No!" Neville said. "And I know it's a good price to pay so that nobody can notice this nifty piece of magic you made for me so I can hide my scar, but do you realize how hard it is going around school feeling as if something's trying to choke my neck?"

"Sorry Neville," Harry said. "But it's necessary."

"Never mind," Neville grumbled. He glanced at Harry and folded his arms. "Right then. I'll send you the information you want in a few days."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"So, when will I see you again?" Neville asked.

"Maybe next week," Harry promised. "I've got something to do right now, so I'll be busy. I'll be dropping by the Room of Requirement, so we might catch each other."

"Okay, then," Neville said. "Goodbye." He held out his hand and Harry shook it, after rising from his seat as well. Neville was about to turn to Disapparate, but he paused.

"Harry…good luck," he said, and twisted around, popping away while the Notice-Me-Not Charms prevented the muggles from noticing the magic.

Harry soon followed Neville, a smile on his lips in fondness.

• • • • •

The weekend that came a few days after that meeting had Harry lying on his stomach on a building yet again, but this time it was for a less than savory reason.

He had taken to spying on his target, trying to spot a routine from his spot on the roof. Today, the man had not left the house for the weekend and so it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

Jonathan Reinseld. A muggle-born wizard who worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a secretary, age 22. A generally antisocial person, he worked for Rapsneck Welerby, a high ranking official in the Auror Office. He had no friends and certainly no relatives, as he was an orphan. He was therefore the perfect candidate, but it had taken Harry a full day to find him, when he had been sifting through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's files. He wanted someone who worked for someone high in the Ministry, while he remained without contact with much people. Close friends and relatives would have noticed a change within the attitude of Reinseld.

He had performed an analysis over the wards and the protection of the one-story house that seemed too large for a single man. There were the standard Ministry protection wards, to which he held deep contempt. They were far too easy to compromise if you knew the trick. So, they would be down in five minutes max. No, what worried Harry was the two Aurors that were patrolling the area, when they had no business to be there, since Reinseld was a secretary. He judged that they wouldn't notice if he took off the wards, but the moment he went into the house, he doubted that Reinseld would not immediately alert them that there was an intruder.

Harry moved flat across the roof, making sure that his movements produced absolutely no sound. Glad that the building was simply one-story like its surroundings, he leapt from the top of the roof to the garden below, and quickly made sure to climb over the fence, his back bent and his eyes darting left and right. He felt jittery, for he was worried that an Auror might turn a corner and spot him approaching the house. He turned his green eyes to the house before him, and he quickly approached its whitewashed picket-fence in a quick stride.

The moon shining down on him while he turned his head left and right, he drew his wand and with a quick sweep of his wand, wrapped his magic around the section of the wards in front of him.

It would be easy to breach in the same way he had breached Dumbledore's wards, this time because the wards were simple and sloppily made. But that would take too long. Thankfully, he'd discovered a shortcut through Ministry wards.

He sifted his magic through the five layers of wards, for two specific wards. The intruder charm, which he otherwise would have slaved over because of its enormous latch around its designated area, and the human-repelling charm both had a similarity in their structure. It would therefore be easy to attach the two wards to each other, using that similarity as the focal point at which the wards could be fused. This would have the effect of negating the magic of both wards, as the differences in the wards would conflict and cause them to shut down from an overload.

And that was what he did. He ignored the nasty aggressive wards that activated on either two conditions; if the intruder charm, which came first, was activated when someone stepped in from outside uninvited and if forceful magic was used to tear apart the human-repelling ward. They would also be negated anyway when he finished his work.

He waved his wand in sharp, straight movements, using a hook-shaped stiff pole of magic to twist both wards around the focal point and then attach them there. He didn't do this to the entire wards, instead using his magic to form a hole in the wards. He licked his lips nervously, hoping against hope that the Aurors wouldn't show up while he was still working.

After five minutes of working on the wards, he finally had an open, man-sized hole in the wards, through which he quickly flitted through. He flicked his wand again and the wards resealed the hole, leaving no trace of a disturbance. He turned to the house, his back still bent as he painstakingly made his way across the house garden. He pressed himself against the cool wall of the house, edging along the wall until he reached a window. Peering into it, he found that the room was empty, so he slid the window open as quietly as possible.

He swung his leg over the windowsill, following that by his entire body. Nervously, he closed the window again, his eyes darting to the room he was currently in.

He was in an undecorated bedroom, with only a desk, a wardrobe, and a four-poster bed. He walked to the door, tiptoeing. Grabbing the door knob, he tried to open it, only to find that it was locked from the outside. He held his wand to the door.

_Alohamora!_

He put as little power as he could into his wand.

The door's lock simply clicked open and Harry tried to open it again, this time the door opening with a noticeable creak. Wincing, Harry paused in the opening of the door. He cocked an ear to listen to any sounds, but there were none. After a small bit of time waiting, Harry nodded to himself and decided that no one would come. Deducing that it would be no good to continue opening the door, he stood stiff and edged sideways out of the doorway. Once outside, he studied the dark hallway that he was in.

A door was in front of him and another was at his left where it ended in a dead end. Light shone from his right and he could hear the rustling of parchment. Nodding firmly to himself, he assumed that this was the right direction. He quickly stalked quietly across the brown carpet below him, taking a turn while sticking to the walls.

He found himself in a living room. There was a single armchair in front of a telly, while a desk was set behind that chair. The back of a head stocked with neat brown hair was bent over parchments that lay atop the desk.

This was him.

Jonathan Reinseld.

Harry raised his wand.

A sizzling beam of red light moved forth.

Several things happened at once. The man had bent in his seat to reach for the bottom drawer in his desk. This inadvertently caused the Stunning Curse to pass over Reinseld's head and strike the television head on, cracking its screen and sending it flying across the room to crash on a wall. Jonathan, catching sight of Harry's cloaked and hooded form as he bent, turned around, a shocked expression on his face.

Harry, cursing that he missed, released another blast of red light at his quarry, but the man jumped from his chair and rolled away from the rushing curse. Reinseld whipped out his wand, directing it at Harry.

"_Effligo!_"

A blast of blue light shot out of the black wand and headed towards Harry, who, surprised, batted at the curse with his wand-tip, which was glowing with a yellow light. The curse was parried and hit the wall to Harry's right, striking it with a large bang and completely shattering the concrete, where it fell to the ground in a hail of debris and shrapnel.

Harry turned upon Reinseld, his intense green eyes scanning him with new wariness. This was not going well, for he had planned to enter the building, stun the man, and quickly do what he had to do. Now the Aurors were alerted and had to be on their way. He certainly didn't need them to arrest him, as he knew, what with Dumbledore's influence and Scrimgeour's ire, he would surely be sent to Azkaban without a word spoken. That was why he now needed to subdue his rebelling quarry, before the Aurors showed up.

But it was easier said than done.

And Reinseld, in the unlikely case the Aurors had not heard the first bang, sent a shower of red sparks into the air, where they passed through the roof to hover in the sky, an omen of what was happening within. Growling, Harry jabbed his wand and all the furniture within the room became a growling horde of bloodthirsty creatures, which included a vicious tiger, several wolves, and abnormally large eagles. Harry waved his wand, shouting, "_Imperio!_" As the animals' minds were easy to control, he preformed the curse only one time over a large area and they were all under his beck and call.

They vaulted at Reinseld, who, caught by surprise, quickly cast a standard shield around him that prevented anything physical from entering. The approaching monsters were thrown forcefully away from Reinseld, but the shield was broken by a blast of purple magic sent at the Ministry worker. He ducked under the curse, his wand rising again, first pointed at the fast approaching animals.

"_Efflixi!_"

A stronger beam of blue light, brighter than the first curse, shot out of his wand into the midst of the group of wolves, where they proceeded to explode in a rain of fleshy shrapnel, some of which landed upon both wizards. Harry shook the disgusting pieces of flesh from him, keeping his eyes on the wizard before him. Harry raised his wand just as Reinseld's wand alternated to him, as the blast had also pushed back the other approaching animals from its force.

"_Plouplum!"_

Sound resembling those a machine gun reached Harry's ears, just as a flurry of muggle-bullets were propelled from the man's wand, one by one, to fly across the room at Harry. Growling, Harry set up a large yellow shield at his wand-tip. He held it brandished in front of him, one hand attached to his wand arm, for support as he expected a jarring conflict.

And it was good, that, for the bullets hit the shield with large force, causing Harry, who had rooted his feet stiffly to the floor, to be pushed back. More bullets struck the shield, making it buckle and shake uncontrollably as Harry struggled to keep his hand straight and not allow any bullet to come through his defenses. He had to get this man down right now! He didn't have much time…

Just as the flurry of bullets paused, Harry moved, twisting flexibly around a shimmering blue blast of magic sent by Reinseld. With speed, he half-dived to the floor, crashing his wand to the carpet just as it started to glow with white light.

"_Contremisco!_"

A flash of white light and some immaterial force quickly tore through the wooden floorboards as it vaulted across the room towards his quarry. Right in front of Reinseld, the floor suddenly exploded as tremor of magic used the last of its strength to blast part of the earth and much of the floorboards right at the man, who quickly whipped his wand and set up a shield around him that protected him from the storm of debris. But Harry pressed his advantage, sending his animals after Reinseld. For good measure, he blasted a red Stunning Curse at Reinseld.

The Stunning Curse broke through the shield and Reinseld was once again forced to duck. The shield shattered and left an opening for the incoming animals, which quickly attacked him with sharp claws and talons. The wizard was soon pinned to the ground by the animals. But coils of fire erupted from his wand and attacked the mind-controlled creatures, setting their feathers and fur on fire. The Imperius Curse quickly lost its effect as the animals screamed in pain, their systems overloading. They tried to move, to get rid of the fire, but they ended up as dying forms on the ground, wilting from the burning fire.

A blast of red light shot out at Harry from the wreckage, but he quickly sidestepped it just as he heard the front door being blasted open.

The Aurors had arrived.

Harry swirled his cloak around with him as he turned on his feet. Unknown to Reinseld, he used his wand to tap himself on the forehead, a grimace of concentration on his face.

He vanished.

Two burly Aurors burst into the room, their eyes widening comically as they viewed the wreckage around Reinseld. The wizard was holding his wand high wand, his eyes darting all over the room, with no one else in sight.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed the leader. "What in Merlin's name happened here?!"

"Keep out your wands out, you bloody idiots!" Reinseld exclaimed when the Aurors tried to tuck their wands into their blood-red battle robes. "He's still here!"

"What?!" the other Auror said, swiveling around in his spot. "Where is he?"

But too late. While they were talking, Harry had been attached to the roof, his wand moving precisely and firmly in complex movements that would've compromised him if he tried to do this difficult magic in the middle of a direct duel. He was invisible, and none of them could see him. But now, twisting, coiling ropes of red light erupted from his wand, directed at all three enemies, as Harry muttered, "_Evincio!_"

The two burly Aurors, not so thick as to not notice the magic, summoned up standard shields, assuming wrongly that the curse was a Stunning Curse. Two of the ropes of magic were repelled by the shields, but they coiled around both Aurors and pinned their arms to their sides, shields and all. Reinseld, surprisingly recognizing the magic for what it was, quickly summoned a wall of debris. The last rope of magic fizzled out after it struck the wall, hovering in the air as nothing more than red, shimmering sparks. The wall of debris was brought down to its original scattered state, and Reinseld let out a blast of blue magic from his wand, sending it at the spot the magic had come from.

Harry jumped out from his position as the beam of blue light struck the roof and blasted a hole in it. Now, the particular property of this invisibility charm that you need to know is that abrupt movements cause it to fall completely. Invisibility charms that had the same effect as invisibility cloaks were an impossibility. All invisibility charms had some sort of deficiency.

So Harry now appeared visible before his three enemies. While the Aurors struggled with their bonds, Reinseld leveled his wand again and let forth another surge of blue, sizzling magic, which Harry sidestepped, flicking his wand sharply.

A yellow beam of magic shot out from his wand. Reinseld made to dodge, but the magic was aimed at a strange tapestry in the corner of the room. The metal animal that had once been sitting stiffly quickly unfolded itself from its seat and leapt at Reinseld, who, with a blast of blue magic, completely annihilated it.

By this time, an Auror had found a way to rid himself of his bond. He had pointed his wand at his own shield and blasted a Reductor Curse right at it. After realizing that the spell could not escape the shield, he poured more power into it and then the shield shattered, along with the rope of magic that had been binding him. Reinseld and the anonymous Auror directed their wands at Harry and blasted twin surges of magic at him.

The two spells about to collide with him, Harry gritted his teeth and quickly weaved flimsily between the twin beams of light, the electrifying magic causing his hairs to stand up on their ends.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the last Auror attempt to get out of his bonds the same as the other had done. He knew he had to end this fast, so he raised his wand high, and pouring power into it, barked out a simple spell.

"_Lumos!_"

A bright flash of white light spread, first from the wand, then across the room, blanketing all of their eyes with blinding white.

Sharp cries rang out in alarm, two of which quickly turned to pain, and the light vanished.

Harry was standing behind the two Aurors, his wand still leveled. The two stiff figures before him had two darts sticking out from their backs. They stood there, for a few moments, stationary, and then proceeded to crumple to the ground in a heap, while Reinseld looked on with horror.

A hand of Harry's snuck into the inside of his cloak, producing another dart, which he held in his palm, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Reinseld. Harry flicked his wand sharply and the dart flew at impossible speeds, straight towards the ready man. A flickering shield formed an arc around the wizard, just before the dart became close. It struck the shield with a resounding clang, the magic behind the banisher trying to push the dart through the shield. But it was impenetrable and the dart fell to the ground. But suddenly, the room seemed to darken…

A bolt of lightening had shot out of Harry's wand, zigzagging across the room faster than the eye could see. It struck the shield, which tried to repel it, but as since the lightening was in fact purely made of magic, it pierced the physical- repelling shield forcefully, striking the unprepared Reinseld in the chest. He was blasted across the room and hit the wall, falling into an unconscious heap, quite similar to the Aurors. Harry, sighing in relief, lowered his wand, and turned to the wreckage.

Well, he thought wryly, it seemed as if destruction followed him wherever he went. First Dumbledore's office, now this. He moved his wand to clear the mess, but before he could move more than an inch, a soft beep that had gone unnoticed during the loud fight finally registered in his still adrenaline-influenced mind. He looked around, shaken, until he discovered that the sound came from the leader of the two Aurors. He stepped to the man and dug his hand into the pocket of his blood-red robes, taking out a strange object.

It was circular and made of black stone. There was a wand-slot to cast a certain spell into and there were also yellow letters, spelling _M.O.M, _which circled the slot.

Harry cursed.

This was a standard Auror magical object, called a Zoner, used to call for backup. The Auror office would be alerted and they would detect the area the call came from, where they would send larger forces to help.

He had no idea how long the Aurors would take to get to the house, but he knew he had to hurry. He quickly traveled to the unconscious Reinseld, flicking his wand. The limp form of Reinseld floated after him as he left the room, walking down the corridor he had come from. He raked his eyes for anything he could use, spotting a closet embedded in the wall of the corridor. He nodded, sliding the door to the closet open and depositing Reinseld in there. He bent to Reinseld's lying body, tapping the man with his wand on the head. Reinseld disappeared, his transparent body now showing exactly what was under him.

He had Disillusioned the man.

He closed the closet and left the hallway, going back to the ruined living room. He glanced at the Aurors.

"Now what should I do with you?"

• • • • •

The alarms had blared off nearly forty-five minutes ago and only now were they on their way to the attacked residence.

Captain Hall Short only hoped that they reached there before Jonathan Reinseld fell.

What with the Auror Office being as unorganized as it was, it had taken almost fifteen minutes for those in charge of the alarms to find a free Auror squad and send them on their merry way. However, Auror policy had the squad chase down the commander of their division, who seemed to never be in his office. They had to scour the length of the Ministry. This time, they got lucky and found him in twenty minutes, but then they had to wait for the commander to finish his conversation with some official in another department. Apparently the commander had far better things to do than talk to a couple of 'low-ranking dogs'.

After the commander had signed the damned warrant, the Aurors had quickly Apparated to the location, muttering under their breath about some arrogant shit of a commander. They arrived at the street, their eyes taking in the stationary house of Jonathan Reinseld. It certainly didn't look like it was being attacked.

Captain Short took out a large, brass baton from his pocket, tapping it against a particular spot on the wards, which soon fell with nary a sound. The Auror squad rushed down the gravel path, flinging open the front door. It didn't take them long to find the source of the trouble.

The living room was in absolute shambles. There were holes in the walls and the roof, there were scorch marks, and strangely, there were burned carcasses on the floor. They didn't enjoy the scenery for too long, however, instead turning their eyes to man standing before two of their fellow Aurors.

It was Jonathan Reinseld.

He turned his brown eyes to them and he scowled.

"Well, look who decided to show up?" Reinseld snarled.

Captain Hall Short was a man who followed procedure, and he stuck to it. No matter that he felt like strangling the man before him. "Mr. Reinseld, please explain what took place in this room and why there are two unconscious Aurors in front of you?" he said.

"It's all your bloody fault," muttered Reinseld. "Some bloke decided he'd like to attack my house. Care to tell me why the bloody hell the wards didn't do what they were supposed to do?"

Captain Short winced. He heard this every time with the survivors of an attack against a Ministry-protected house.

"I repeat," Captain Short said, "what took place in this room?"

"I told you what the fuck happened here," growled Reinseld. "Some bloke tried to attack my house. You bloody Aurors are useless. It didn't take long for whoever it was to take them out of the fight. Had to kick him out myself." He kicked one of the sleeping Aurors in the side.

Captain Short turned to his men. "Take a look round the house, find if anything's still there," he ordered. They scrambled to obey.

He nodded to Reinseld. "We apologize for any inconvenience," he said. "But please tell us what happened in detail, what went on in this room.

"A bloke barged his way into this room," Reinseld said, rolling his eyes. "He tried to curse me, but he missed. We started dueling and he was damn good too, but I bet he didn't expect me to fight back properly." He smirked. "I didn't get high NEWTs for nothing you know. I alerted these useless lumps and they turned up. Bloke fought back, but it was three against one. He took them out, but I managed to kick him out of my house."

"Thank you, sir," he said. "As reparations for the inconvenience, we shall return the house to its original state. The muggle-repelling charms should have done their jobs in not alerting the muggles to the chaos that occurred here."

"Forget it," grunted Reinseld. "I'll do it myself. Bet you can't do anything right, you bloody Aurors."

Short gritted his teeth, glaring at Reinseld. It was long gap of silence until his men, after finishing searching the house, returned to the living room. "There's nothing there, sir," one of them informed him.

"Very well," Short said. "Thank you, Mr. Reinseld, for your cooperation. The Auror Office will try to get to the bottom of this situation. Expect new security around the house. We shall be visiting again tomorrow. The Ministry of Magic wishes you…a pleasant evening."

As Captain Short left Reinseld's house, he decided to retract his previous statement.

He wished that Reinseld had just bloody died.

* * *

**And this is the fourth installment in The Outsider and it is by far the longest. Expect chapters of this length every week. For the past chapter, I kept thinking, oh, I want this chapter to be this long, but I ended up making them shorter than what I originally wanted.**

**I thank you all for your reviews. I always like to hear your thoughts on each chapter.**

**For the newspaper article, I didn't write it its entirety because I'm no journalist and it would certainly have looked like utter bullshit. So I just summarized the conclusions Harry gained from reading the paper.**

**The dialogue between Neville and Harry was hopefully good. Please tell me your opinion on this. For all those who thought I wasn't going to keep Neville in the story, here you go.**

**I've also edited Chapter 2. It's just a little addition in the dialogue, nothing big, but I think it works better this way. And this is the final edit to Chapter 2.**


	5. Minor Setback II

**The Outsider  
Chapter 5: **_Minor Setback II_

The door swung open. A troop of red-robed figures were outside, behind a tall man wearing silver and black.

Harry stood in front of them, his arms folded. The bald leader smiled at him, showing blood red lips and sharp teeth.

"Mr. Reinseld," the leader said, in his sugary deprecating voice. "Thank you…for your hospitality." He glanced around at the bare walls. "I am Commander Prouden, of the 2nd Division, Auror Office. It is quite a pleasure to meet you, I assure you." His voice said anything but.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Harry said cordially, no hint of emotion leaving his voice. Of course, if he hadn't been impersonating Reinseld, he'd have already whacked the daylights out of Prouden. It was really too bad that he couldn't; for he had to show no suspicious behavior. At least Reinseld was easy to impersonate. This was exactly how Harry acted when he spotted a single flash of a long, white beard. "Perhaps you'd like to come in, to the living room? I would be a fool to leave you out in the cold, honorable Aurors that you are."

Prouden gave him another red-lipped smile, taking his cotton gloves off and tucking them into his pocket. "Certainly," said Prouden. "These sensitive matters should not be discussed out in the open, after all." Harry stepped away from the door to let the Aurors through, closing it behind them. He followed them to the living room, where Prouden signaled and they stepped outside the room, their backs stiff and their postures as wary as a cat.

"Still, there are some things that need to be hidden away from prying ears, isn't that right, Mr. Reinseld?" the Commander said, shutting the door. Taking out his wand, he moved it in precise movements, putting up silencing wards around the room. Harry picked up a muggle thermos from Reinseld's desk, prepared beforehand, and then turned to the busy Commander.

"Tea?" he proposed.

Tucking his wand in his pocket after he was done, Prouden turned around, spotting the thermos and giving it a look of distaste. "Perhaps another day," answered Prouden. Harry raised an eyebrow, shrugged and poured himself some tea. He kept the cup on the table as he gestured for Prouden to sit down on the armchair he had conjured before his arrival, in front of the now fixed television. The Commander sat himself in the seat, observing Reinseld carefully.

Taking a seat on the couch directly opposite Prouden, he sipped at his tea, returning Prouden's piercing gaze.

"I have to admit, when I received the message that Aurors would come knocking my door, I certainly didn't expect a Commander to show up," Harry said, returning his cup to the table. "Of course, I do feel honored that you decided to come here yourself."

"Curiosity, Mr. Reinseld," Prouden said. "And in this case there are many things to be curious about."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "I do have to wonder how _curious _these things are to bring a Commander to my humble abode."

"Then perhaps I need to explain them," Prouden said. "The two Aurors that were supposed to be guarding you. They were drawn into unconsciousness during the attack, by some darts, coated with Dreamless-Sleep Potion."

"Crafty," acknowledged Harry.

"Indeed," Prouden said, narrowing his eyes. "But what the perpetrator seemed ignorant about was the mixture of this Potion with another particular spell."

His heart started beating fast in his chest. Surely he didn't mean what he thought he meant?

"Another spell?" Harry asked, swallowing discreetly through his anxiety. "What could that be?"

Prouden looked at Reinseld appraisingly. "Did the man, at any point before the Aurors were brought down, cast a…Memory-Modifying Charm?" he said, wording his phrases carefully. A flicker of emotion disrupted Harry's cold mask, something that Prouden certainly did not miss. Prouden leaned in, his pointed teeth flickering in and out of sight as he spoke, "Well…? Did you?" His suspicious eyes glinted maliciously.

What happened when you mixed Dreamless-Sleep Potion with a Memory-Modifying Charm? Harry cursed himself for not realizing another mysterious property of magic. Magic was hazardous at times, like this one.

"I don't particularly remember him casting something like that," answered Harry, his voice nearly breaking. "Though it may perhaps be that I missed it, what with the confusion of the battle. Although I wonder how you found out about the Memory-Modifying Charm."

"Healers said that they just don't particularly work together, Dreamless-Sleep Potion and Memory-Modifying Charms," answered Prouden. "The Charm was attempted but the fact that the Potion shuts down the mind conflicted with its full potential. You can therefore expect that the Memory-Modifying Charm became quite obvious as a result of the Potion. But then again, the two Aurors' constant, indecipherable babble when they woke up was quite enough for us to realize that their minds were tampered with."

"I see."

"But if the man didn't cast it, then who did?" said Prouden. "There were only four people here, as far as your testimony reveals. There aren't a lot of suspects in this case, don't you think?" His soft voice did not evoke another reaction from Harry, who had been sitting, looking languidly and thoughtfully at the roof. In truth he was doing a lot of quick thinking, though Prouden did not need to know that.

"I do remember some strange spell he cast _after_ the men were brought down," Harry said slowly, the idea forming in his head as he spoke. He did not fall into Prouden's trap. If the Healers knew it had been cast, they certainly would know that it was cast after unconsciousness. "Nonverbally, he performed it. It didn't have an effect, actually, nothing that I was aware of. Perhaps he cast it at that point."

"A plausible explanation," Prouden said, thought it was apparent that his suspicion was still not assuaged. "But there still remains the motive behind such an act. Why did he modify their memories?" He raised an eyebrow at Harry. Well, apparently his beating heart had only just gone through a warm-up. Now it had transformed into a full-blown, sweat-inducing exercise. Harry certainly hoped that Prouden couldn't hear the drum-like sounds, drawn from his chest. He was back to thinking quickly, although this time he didn't have much time.

"I'm not particularly sure…" Harry murmured, with a pondering frown on his face, his heart beating faster and faster as he tried to reach a conclusion quickly. "He'd certainly have to have some motive behind this…" He tapped a finger on his chin, his face screwed up in thought. His real motivation for modifying the Aurors' memories was to make it more plausible, 'Reinseld''s testimony that he kicked his attacker out. He twisted the memory so that the Aurors would believe that Harry was losing before they were knocked unconscious.

By Merlin, Prouden's glittering eyes were distracting him. They looked at him with far too much scrutiny for his taste and there was far more suspicion there than Harry exactly needed at the moment. He was waiting patiently for Harry to slip and give him sort of confession, although for exactly what Harry knew not.

"Oh!" Harry said suddenly, surprising Prouden. "I remember now!"

"What is it exactly do you remember, Mr. Reinseld?" asked Prouden, his eyes narrowing again. "What 'slipped your notice'?"

Harry tried not to let on how that comment increased his anxiety. He took a few seconds to fix the fissures in his mask and then said calmly, "I do think that his hood fell off his face at some part of the duel…"

"And did you see who it was?" Prouden said. "I do have to wonder why you didn't tell who it was that attacked you to the Aurors who came for backup."

"No, I didn't see who it was, though I think the two Aurors found out," Harry said. "He blinded all of us before I could get a good look at his face. Next thing I knew, the two Aurors were unconscious and he had his hood back up."

The suspicion that Harry expected to disappear did not dim, but seemed to grow. Prouden leaned back in his armchair, observing Harry piercingly again. A fake smile was placed on his blood-red lips again, showing his sharp teeth again. "I suppose that is a good motive," Prouden said. "But it is a bit convenient, you, the one who drove him out, would be the only one who didn't see who it was. And our… unfortunate … Aurors would most certainly have no recollection of what happened here, after they are healed of this delirium."

Harry could have sighed in relief, hearing that the Aurors would not remember what _actually _happened. He didn't though, because he knew exactly how it would look like to this observant man. He did make a show of appearing mildly interested, though. "A rotten piece of luck, I'd say," he said. "It's certainly not going to help us find out who attacked my house."

Prouden narrowed his eyes yet again. "It certainly wouldn't," the Commander murmured. Harry, his mask still on, went for his tea, draining the now cool liquid to assuage his nerves, while Prouden looked at him unblinkingly.

Prouden suddenly rose from his seat, brushing his impeccable silver-and-black cloak. A smile returning to his lips again, he waved his wand and the silencing wards came down, there being absolutely no need for them at the moment.

"My job is done here, at the moment," he said, his voice showing its sugary tones yet again. "My men," he added, waving to the passage outside, "will discuss security for you. I will have more Aurors around here.

"What is it that the Muggles say?" Prouden said lightly, as he was about to leave. "'I've got my eyes on you'? You can rest assured that I do."

As Prouden walked out of the door, barking orders to the Aurors, Harry couldn't help wondering exactly _why _the Commander was interested in him.

• • • • •

Harry passed by a pair of iron gates, through high railings. The house before him was one he had seen before.

He knocked on the door, waiting patiently until it was opened by a batty old woman. She frowned deeply at him, her eyes scrunching up.

"What do you want?" she barked at him.

"Sorry for any trouble, madam," Harry said charmingly. "Jeremy Albertson, Social Services. May I enter?"

She looked at him suspiciously, but opened the door for him anyway. "Come in then," she said, glancing at him in his polished suit unsavorily. "Wait for Ms. Bishop to come. And don't you go touching things, you hear, young man!" She turned around in the black-and-white checkered hallway, still as shabby as he remembered it. It didn't take much time for a dumpy woman to bustle in, her hands on her wide hips, and a frown on her face. The other, batty woman didn't return

"What's this about Social Services!" she bellowed. "All of a sudden? This is a government-funded orphanage, I'll have you know."

"We are sorry for any intrusion, Ma'am," Harry said, resisting the urge to say 'so, what?' He'd better just do this quick and be done with it. He snapped open his suitcase, withdrawing a blank piece of paper. "I am very sure this will explain everything." He handed it to the stern woman, whose eyes quickly went unfocused. She hobbled on her feet a little, her eyes looking over his shoulders, before handing the paper back to him.

"So you want to check the condition of the orphanage?" she said unsteadily, Confunded. "Exactly what for?"

"I thought the paper made everything very clear," replied Harry. "We would like to see the state of this orphanage, and how the children are doing."

"Where'd you like to start then?" she said, her eyes still bleary.

"How about we stop by your office?" Harry said. She reacted immediately, beckoning him to follow her as she led him unsteadily to a familiar office. She settled down behind the desk. While she stared unblinkingly over his shoulder, Harry locked the door behind him, glancing at the woman with narrowed eyes. He sat himself in front of his desk.

"So…" Harry said slowly. "Tell me everything about the history of this orphanage."

"Well, I'm not very new to this orphanage," she said, her clear voice contrasting with her dumbfounded expression. "Been here since the days of Mrs. Cole. Well, at that time, we weren't government funded and the bloke who founded this orphanage wasn't too rich. So we had to make do with whatever we had."

"Now that you're government-funded, is the condition of the orphanage better?" Harry questioned.

"Goodness, no!" she snorted, not quite realizing what she was saying. "Bloody waste of money on this dump. The children were just fine before government funded us."

Harry decided not to mention that they were obviously going to get caught. Inspectors simply had to take one look at this dump before concluding that the money had been going into the founder's pockets, as well as this matron.

"Anyway, the founder applied to the government and they funded our project," she said. "Been a lot better, living here. Mrs. Cole retired a few years back and I took over. Made a few changes around here too. Cole was always too soft on the children for her own good."

"I see," Harry said, raising an eyebrow in disgust at the woman before him. Contrary to popular belief, Harry did not have a hero-complex. He wasn't going to save the _poor, poor _children but he did hope that Social Services would discover this useless pig of a woman's crimes. Deciding that he wouldn't get any proper answer, he switched the direction of his questioning. "Now, do you take the children anywhere? A summer outing, perhaps?"

"Oh yes, we take 'em to the same bloody seaside every year," she grumbled. "Money we could save, but nothing I can do about it. The matrons would get even more suspicious and we have enough of that."

"Where exactly do you take them?" he said. He snapped open his suitcase again, withdrawing a blank parchment. He hovered his pen over the parchment, glancing at her.

In a droning voice, she gave him the instructions to the seaside immediately. Satisfied, Harry tucked the parchment into his suitcase. He turned his eyes to the now-catatonic Mrs. Bishop. That was technically what he had come for, but he hesitated now. Perhaps he needed to check something else.

"Perhaps you can lead me on a tour of this place?" he said. "To make sure that the children are properly cared for."

• • • • •

Harry stared around the downtrodden room he was standing in. The occupant had just left, due to a few orders from Mrs. Bishop. He doubted that Voldemort would leave his precious artifacts in this old dump, but there was no harm in checking, really.

He'd been hit with a sense of déjà vu the moment he had entered the room and so knew it had been Voldemort's. He had sent Bishop out after the orphan, choosing not to have her around for this.

He peered under the bed, wand in hand. The spell he was about to perform would not affect the natural magicks around the room, and so would not be detected. The reason for this was that the spell _searched _formagic, and for that it needed to not evoke a change over the magic it was searching for. Perfect for keeping the Ministry out of the loop.

A narrow beam of red light extended from his wand tip, while he held it close to the ground. He scanned under the bed with this beam, running it over the small space below the bed. There was nothing out of place.

He rose from his position, moving to search every single corner and object for dark magic. Still he found nothing.

He looked to the wardrobe.

He frowned.

He still hadn't searched inside it.

Opening the wardrobe, he could see nothing out of the ordinary with his naked eye. But when he ran the beam of light across the _exact _place where Riddle used to hide his trophies, something happened.

A hole appeared, out of nowhere, and as if it had been there all along and he'd just never noticed it.

And it was right underneath him.

His eyes wide, he fell.

• • • • •

He fell flat on his back.

For two seconds, all he heard were the steady drops of moisture drip-dropping from the ceiling.

He didn't get to enjoy it very long, however.

It was like a monstrous beast had ripped through the floor he had been lying under. Flying debris spewed up a storm as _something _rose from the darkness, something slimy and green, with thorns along its sides. A roar registered in his blank mind and thus threw it into action.

The first thing he did was roll himself to his feet, his knees bent so that he could dodge whatever it was easily, and his wand at the ready so that he might blast whatever it was attacking him out of existence. He was lucky he had held on to his wand.

The second thing he did was register that he was feeling dizzy and nauseous, unsteady on his feet.

The third thing he did was analyze his surroundings. He had survived the fall due to a cushioning charm that had been layered on the floor. He had assessed that from the fact that he had not died when he landed. He was in a huge cavern, in which half of the ground had been turned into rubble and become a gaping hole. One which was filled with a gigantic plant-like thing. Its flower was a mouth – like much of the monster-plants he had seen in cartoons – the edges of its petals were teeth, and its thick vines were tentacles. Its stem was the largest he had ever seen, larger than the trunks of the largest trees.

He had barely understood the gravity of his situation before the vines surged forth, intent on wrapping themselves around him.

"_Orbiso Flammum!_"

A giant orb of searing flames blasted forth from his shaking wand, which was beating to the same rhythm as his arm. Despite the cushioning charms, the fall had jarred him.

He was blasted to his feet as the orb exploded into a storm of flames, flames that seemed to have no effect upon the monster. The vines were knocked back a little but they came back with a vengeance, grabbing him and bringing him to the plant itself. With that, it opened its maw and only then, with horrified realization, did he register what the plant was.

He had read about it… the Maggola, a plant with endurance like no other. There was almost no way to actually harm it, the only thing you could do is calm it. That wasn't just it, though. It fed on humans, which it swallowed whole and stored in its pseudo-stomach for days, its juices breaking down every cell of the victim to sustain its life.

Locked up here underground, there was no doubt … it was bloody hungry.

And unfortunately, he was not in a position to laugh about it.

He struggled in vain against the vice-like grip of the plant. All he knew was that he could not allow himself to enter the belly of the beast – for there was no way he could then get out of it.

The fingers holding tightly to his wand were slowly being crushed, and so he had to act quickly before he lost his only weapon. His mind immediately leaped back to fire, which he had already tried. It seemed to hold the plant back a little. Perhaps…

With great effort, he flicked his wand-wrist, and his wand along with it. Flames suddenly engulfed his entire body; they did not hurt him, but they certainly burned at the beast. It dropped him, its tentacles surprised by the sudden heat. He landed smoothly thanks to the cushioning charm, but he did not have much time before a shadow loomed over him and the plant's red flower darted forwards at him, its mouth open and ready to swallow him.

He rolled to the side. While the brunt of the attack had been avoided, its pseudo-teeth had penetrated his side and drew blood. He winced in pain, but ignored it in favor of leveling his wand at the beast's head and barking out a spell. Countless crude blades appeared around him, their points aimed at the plant's flower. They darted forward, sinking into its mouth with a satisfying squelch. And more were still coming, he made sure of that.

He wasn't stupid; he knew there was no way that could have killed it, so he moved. With a wave of his wand over his feet and hands, he prepared himself for a climb. He jumped up and latched onto the wall with his left hand's palm, supporting it with his legs. He crawled up the wall, hoping that the plant was injured enough for him to escape. Harry could not help but look back and glance down at the plant, which had its tentacles groping away at its flowers, trying to take out the searing blades.

Satisfied, he climbed up the hole he had fallen through, hoping that he'd manage to get out of range from the plant before it recovered. He quickened his pace, climbing up the wall with record speed, growing surer of his feet as he got used to the strange feeling of crawling up a wall.

He was almost there now… quickly, he let his left palm off the wall, now simply standing on his two feet, horizontally to the wall. Gravity threatened to tilt him the wrong way, but he persisted. He practically _ran _up the wall, until finally.

He yelled in triumph, just before a tentacle grabbed at his left arm and pulled.

He was in quite a position, now; the tentacle was pulling at him, yet he remained stuck to the wall by his feet. The tentacle pulled and pulled, but it could not pry him up the wall. His arm was aching by then, its socket straining from the force. And with an expected crack, his arm broke. More tentacles followed the first, wrapping around his throat and attempting to choke him now that he was stopped in his tracks.

He did not attempt to cut the tentacles off with a spell, fearing that he might cut his throat by mistake. His throat was slowly tightening and air could no longer pass through it. His body was beginning to slowly weaken and his vision was slowly being marred by black spots, while it narrowed as unconsciousness threatened to take him.

In desperation he raised his wand upwards to the roof of the cavern that was not part of the hole he had fallen through. A red shimmering ray blasted off from his wand and struck it. It cracked, and then broke into a rain of large debris that fell upon the plant below. Its tentacles grew limp and released him, and so he took his chance.

He did not know from where he got the energy to continue, but he did. He ran further and further up the wall, meanwhile hearing rumbles beneath him as the plant attempted to throw the boulders off of it. It took little time for the tentacles to come after him; he could see in the corners of his eyes as the multitudes of tentacles groped after him, upwards. Faster he ran, upon seeing this. The tentacles were closing in on him and he was still so far.

Finally, he saw a glimpse of light, light from the room he had fallen down from. He could now see his destination. It was in the range of his wand!

And so, while he ran, he pointed his wand upward and barked out a spell. A thick rope with a giant harpoon at the end blasted off from the tip of his wand. The rope continued to stretch from his wand tip as the harpoon rose higher and higher, until finally it embedded itself within the roof above.

He removed his feet from the wall as he was quickly being propelled upwards by the shortening rope. Finally, sweaty and absolutely tired, he was launched back into the room, on his knees. The hole sealed behind him and he gasped in some much needed air.

It was only when he finally could even think properly did he figure out exactly what that was. It was a trap; designed by Riddle. Any wizard, who would come to his old orphanage, searching for dark magic, would most probably be searching for his Horcruxes. The plant was designed to trap the wizard until Voldemort could come and extract him from it so as to question him and then most likely kill him. Damned Riddle, Harry thought vehemently.

Suddenly, he widened his eyes. Riddle could be on his way right now; he was neither ready nor prepared to fight him, he knew that. His dread was only deepened when he remembered … the Ministry had most probably detected his underage magic. Goddamn it!

He had to get out of there fast!

It was with little elegance did he jump straight out of the window, muttering, "_Arresto Momentum!_" His fall was punctuated by the screams he suddenly noticed from the building. The harpoon he had used had most likely caused a ruckus. He landed smoothly on the floor in front of the orphanage. Quickly, he ran forward, spinning on his feet while doing so …

And he fell on his back, as his Apparation was stopped. By Anti-Apparation Wards, of course.

It didn't take very long for a platoon of red-robed Aurors to show up, by Portkey, no less.

* * *

**A/N: Well, shorter than I'd hoped, what with this being late as it is. **


End file.
